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BALZAC 


EDGAR  EVERTSON   SALTUS 


BOSTON 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 

New  York  :   85  Fifth  Avenue 


Copyright,  1884. 
By  EDGAR  EVERTSON  SALTUS. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Frets,  Catnhridge,  Mass.,  XT.  S.  A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  U.  0.  Houghton  &  Company. 


PS  nBRARY 

an^  CISTVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

g^<o^  SANTA  BARBARA 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 
The  Vagaries  of  Genius         ....       5 

CHAPTER  11. 
The  CoMiiDiE  Humaine         ....         39 

CHAPTER  III. 
The  Buskin  and  the  Sock       ....    69 

CHAPTER  IV. 
The  Chase  for  Gold  ....       108 

CHAPTER  V. 
The  Thinker 140 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Bibliography 165 


BALZAC. 
♦ 

CHAPTER  I. 

THE  VAGARIES   OF  GENIUS. 

"  Great  minds  are  bravely  eccentric ;  they  scorn  the  beaten  trado'* 
—  Goldsmith. 

In  the  city  of  Tours,  in  whose  gabled  streets 
there  lingers  still  some  memory  of  la  belle 
Imp6ria,  Honord  de  Balzac  was  born  on  the 
2oth  of  May,  1799. 

His  childhood  was  in  no  wise  extraordinary, 
save  for  the  avidity  with  which  he  read  the 
Bible  and  the  keen  delight  which  he  took  in 
the  possession  of  a  little  red  violin.  He  was 
indifferent  to  romps  and  games,  and  when 
not  lost  in  the  mysterious  depths  of  the  Scrip- 
tures he  played  by  the  hour  on  his  fiddle,  and 
extracted  therefrom  an  enjoyment  which  was 
almost  sensual  in  its  intensity.  His  parents 
were  well-considered  people,  in  easy  circum- 
stances. Honord  was  their  first-bom,  and  to 
him  were  subsequently  given  two  sisters  and  a 
brother,  concerning  whom  only  a  passing  men- 


6  Balzac. 

tion  need  be  made.  His  eldest  sister,  Laure, 
became  the  wife  of  M.  de  Surville,  a  civil  engi- 
neer, survived  her  illustrious  brother,  and  pub- 
lished his  letters,  together  with  a  weak  sketch 
of  his  life  ;  his  second  sister  also  married,  but 
died  at  an  early  age ;  while  his  brother  Henri 
sought  his  fortune,  after  the  manner  of  younger 
sons,  in  the  colonies,  failed  to  find  it,  and  was 
otherwise  entirely  uninteresting. 

At  the  age  of  eight,  Balzac  was  placed  as 
boarder  at  the  College  de  Vendome,  where, 
through  the  compression  of  his  dreamy  nature 
by  unaccustomed  tasks  and  rules,  he  soon 
lapsed  into  a  careless  neglect  of  his  duties,  and 
became,  in  consequence,  one  of  the  most  fre- 
quently punished  pupils  in  his  class.  Favored, 
however,  by  the  tacit  connivance  of  a  tutor,  he 
passed  most  of  his  time  in  the  library.  Science, 
philosophy,  belles-lettres,  religion,  history,  and 
even  dictionaries,  he  read  and  inwardly  digested, 
and  during  the  six  years  that  he  remained  at 
the  school  he  assimilated  the  substance  of  all 
the  books  worth  reading. 

This  absorption  of  ideas  produced  a  note- 
worthy effect.  His  eye  embraced  six  or  eight 
lines  at  a  time,  and  his  mind  appropriated  the 
thought  with  a  velocity  equal  to  his  glance  ;  a 
single  word  in  a  phrase  often  sufficing  for  a 
clear  understanding  of  the  whole. 

His  memory  was  like  a  vise.     He  remem- 


The   Vagaries  of  Genius.  7 

bered  not  only  the  ideas  which  he  had  acquired 
in  reading,  but  also  those  which  conversation 
and  reflection  had  suggested.  Words,  names, 
figures,  and  places  he  not  only  recalled  at  will, 
but  he  saw  them  within  himself,  brilliant  and 
colored  as  they  were  at  the  moment  when  he 
had  first  perceived  them. 

Mentally  fortified  by  his  extensive  reading, 
he  wrote  at  the  age  of  twelve  the  famous 
"  Traite  de  la  Volonte,"  so  often  mentioned  in 
his  later  works,  but  which  was  confiscated  by 
the  regent  as  the  probable  cause  of  his  neglect 
of  the  regular  curriculum,  and  which  Balzac 
says  he  doubtless  sold  for  waste  paper  without 
recognizing  the  value  of  the  scientific  treas- 
ures whose  germs  were  thus  wasted  in  igno- 
rant hands. 

After  this  loss,  more  than  terrible  to  a  young 
imagination,  Balzac  sought  consolation  in  verse, 
and  wrote  a  poem  on  the  Incas,  commencing: 
"  O  Inca !  roi  infortun*^  et  malheureux !  "  which, 
with  the  exception  of  his  subsequent  "  Crom- 
well," was  his  sole  familiarity  with  the  peplum 
of  the  Muse ;  for,  of  the  four  sonnets  in  the 
"  Illusions  Perdues,"  the  first  and  second  are 
by  Lassaily,  the  third  is  by  Madame  de  Girar- 
din,  and  the  fourth  by  Gautier,  while  the  poem 
in  "  Modeste  Mignon  "  was  the  work  of  Gerard 
de  Nerval. 

From  these  secret  and  laborious  studies,  as 


8  Balzac. 

well  as  from  possible  fermentation  of  ideas, 
Balzac  fell  into  a  sort  of  coma  and  nervous 
fever,  which  was  singularly  inexplicable  to  his 
masters  and  teachers.  His  parents  were  has- 
tily summoned,  and  the  precocious  boy,  now 
almost  epileptic,  was  taken  home,  where  rest 
and  quiet  gradually  calmed  the  tumult  in  his 
brain,  and  restored  the  health  and  vivacity  of 
boyhood.  Little  by  little  the  results  of  his  ex- 
traordinary labors  became  classified  within  his 
troubled  mind,  and  to  them  were  added  other 
ideas  of  a  less  abstract  nature  ;  and  in  wander- 
ing on  the  banks  of  the  Loire,  or  in  attending 
the  impressive  ceremonies  at  the  Cathedral  of 
Saint-Gatien,  he  acquired  not  only  a  love  of 
the  beautiful,  but  also  the  sincere  and  abiding 
faith  in  religion  with  which  he  subsequently  en- 
riched the  pages  of  the  "  Comedie  Humaine." 
At  home,  as  at  school,  however,  his  intelli- 
gence was  entirely  unsuspected,  and  his  sister, 
Madame  de  Surville,  relates  that  whenever  he 
chanced  to  make  a  brilliant  remark  his  mother 
would  invariably  say,  "  It  is  impossible,  Ho- 
nore,  for  you  to  understand  what  you  are  talk- 
ing about ; "  whereupon  Honore  would  laugh, 
without  deigning  to  enter  into  any  explana- 
tions.^ His  father,  however,  who  was  an  in- 
offensive disciple  of  both  Montaigne  and  Swift, 
had  his  own  reasons  for  thinking  well  of  his 

1  Balzact  by  Madame  de  Surville.    Calmann  L^vy,  Fans. 


The  Vagaries  of  Genius.  9 

son,  and  decided  that  a  child  of  his  could  never 
by  any  chance  be  a  fool ;  and  while  at  that  time 
he  saw  nothing  in  the  boy  which  promised  any 
immediate  celebrity,  he  nevertheless  cherished 
a  few  vague  hopes. 

But  the  prescience  which  the  father  lacked 
had  already  visited  the  son.  From  time  to 
time  he  stated  that  he  would  some  day  be  fa- 
mous, and  this  boast  appeared  so  outrageously 
insulting  to  his  brother  and  sisters  that  they 
punished  him  with  every  torture  which  child- 
ish ingenuity  could  invent. 

Balzac's  family  soon  after  moved  to  Paris, 
where  he  again  was  placed  at  school.  There, 
as  at  Vendome,  he  gave  no  sign  of  future  ge- 
nius, and  as  before  was  regarded  as  an  idler 
and  a  dullard. 

His  classes  completed,  he  attended  the  lec- 
tures of  Guizot,  Cousin,  and  Villemain,  and  his 
degree  of  bachelier-bs-lettres  obtained,  he  en- 
tered a  law  office  which  Scribe  had  just  quit- 
ted. Here  he  acquired  that  luminous  insight 
to  law  and  procedure  which  served  him  to 
such  advantage  in  the  varied  litigations  of  his 
future  world,  and  enabled  him,  years  after, 
to  plead,  as  Voltaire  did  for  Galas,  in  defense 
of  Sdbastien  Peytel,  a  former  acquaintance,  ac- 
cused of  the  murder  of  his  wife  and  servant. 
The  case  was  lost,  and  his  client  convicted ;  but 
his  oration  was  none  the  less  superb,  and  his 


10  Balzac. 

argument  is  still  cited  as  one  of  the  most  bril- 
liant efforts  in  the  annals  of  the  French  bar. 

His  legal  apprenticeship  completed,  it  was 
naturally  expected  that  he  would  follow  the  law 
as  a  profession,  but  Balzac  had  other  ideas ;  he 
felt  as  did  Corneille  e  tutti  quanti^  that  his  vo- 
cation was  not  such  as  is  found  in  courts,  and 
expressed  a  preference  for  a  purely  literary  life. 

"  But,"  objected  his  father,  "  do  you  not 
know  that  in  literature,  to  avoid  being  a  slave, 
you  must  be  a  king  ? " 

"  Very  well,"  Balzac  replied,  "  king  I  will  be." 

After  many  arguments  it  was  finally  agreed 
that  he  should  be  allowed  two  years  of  proba- 
tion ;  and  as  his  family  were  about  to  return  to 
the  country,  he  was  lodged  in  the  Rue  Les- 
diguieres,  near  the  Bibliotheque  de  I'Arsenal, 
on  an  allowance  of  a  hundred  francs  a  month. 
His  life  there  he  has  in  "  Facino  Cane  "  de- 
scribed as  follows :  — 

"  I  passed  my  days  at  the  neighboring  library. 
I  lived  frugally,  for  I  had  accepted  all  the  con- 
ditions of  that  monastic  life  which  is  so  neces- 
sary to  students  and  thinkers.  I  seldom  went 
out,  and  when  I  did  a  simple  promenade  was 
converted  into  a  source  of  study,  for  I  observed 
the  customs  of  the  faubourg,  its  inhabitants 
and  their  characters.  As  badly  dressed  as  the 
workmen  and  as  careless  of  decorum,  I  attract- 
ed no  attention  from  them,  and  was  enabled 


The  Vagaries  of  Genius.  1 1 

to  mix  among  them  and  watch  their  bargains 
and  disputes. 

"  Observation  had  become  to  me  intuitive. 
It  penetrated  the  spirit  without  neglecting  the 
body,  or  rather  it  seized  exterior  details  so 
clearly  that  it  immediately  went  beyond  them. 
It  gave  me  the  power  of  living  the  life  of  any 
individual  upon  whom  it  was  exercised,  and 
permitted  me  to  substitute  my  personality  for 
his,  as  did  the  dervish  in  the  *  Thousand  and 
One  Nights '  who  had  the  power  of  occupying 
the  body  and  soul  of  those  over  whom  he  pro- 
nounced certain  words.  When,  therefore,  be- 
tween eleven  and  twelve  at  night,  I  encountered 
a  workman  and  his  wife  returning  from  the 
theatre,  I  amused  myself  in  following  them 
from  the  Boulevard  du  Pont-aux-Choux  to  the 
Boulevard  Beaumarchais.  At  first  they  would 
speak  of  the  play  which  they  had  just  witnessed. 
From  that  they  would  begin  to  talk  of  their 
own  affairs,  the  mother  dragging  her  child  after 
her,  listening  neither  to  its  complaints  nor  to 
its  demands.  The  money  which  was  to  be 
paid  to  tl1%m  was  added,  and  then  spent  in 
twenty  different  ways.  Then  came  the  house- 
hold details,  murmurings  on  the  excessive  price 
of  potatoes,  the  length  of  the  winter,  energetic 
discussions  on  the  baker's  bill,  and  finally  little 
quarrels,  in  which  they  displayed  their  charac- 
ters in  picturesque  words.     While  listening  to 


12  Balzac. 

them  I  espoused  their  life.  I  felt  their  rags  on 
my  back;  my  feet  marched  in  their  tattered 
shoes ;  their  desires,  their  needs,  all  passed  into 
my  spirit,  and  mine  into  theirs  :  it  was  the  dream 
of  a  waking  man.  With  them  I  grew  angry  at 
their  tyrannical  masters  or  at  their  customers 
who  made  them  come  again  and  again  without 
paying  what  they  owed. 

"To  relinquish  my  identity,  to  become  an- 
other through  the  intoxication  of  the  moral 
faculties,  and  to  play  this  game  at  will,  such 
was  my  sole  distraction.  I  have  sometimes 
wondered  if  this  gift  was  one  of  those  faculties 
whose  abuse  leads  to  madness,  but  its  causes 
I  have  never  sought.  I  know,  merely,  that  I 
possess  and  make  use  of  it." 

This  ability  to  penetrate  mentally  the  indi- 
viduality of  another  is  the  evident  explanation 
of  the  minuteness  with  which  all  of  Balzac's 
characters  are  drawn,  as  well  as  the  secret  of 
their  logical  attitudes  ;  for  as  in  every-day  life, 
while  it  is  a  question  whether  man  is  his  own 
providence  or  is  interwoven  in  a  web  of  pre- 
ordained circumstances,  yet  in  either  case  cer- . 
tain  results  are  inevitable  and  a  matter  of  sta- 
tistic, so  in  Balzac  there  is  no  dodging  of  fate 
or  shirking  of  consequences,  and  he  is  careful, 
in  sending  his  own  blood  tingling  through  the 
veins  of  his  creations,  to  surround  them  with 
the  same  laws  to  which  he  is  himself  subjected. 


The  Vagaries  of  Genius.  13 

During  his  novitiate  Balzac  prepared  a  five- 
act  tragedy  in  blank  verse,  entitled  "Crom- 
well," a  subject  which  it  is  curious  to  note  was 
simultaneously  chosen  by  Victor  Hugo.  At 
its  completion,  a  professor  of  the  £cole  Poly- 
technique  was  requested  to  decide  whether  the 
lines  contained  a  sufficient  promise  of  genius 
to  warrant  a  further  pursuit  of  literary  honors 
on  the  part  of  the  young  aspirant.  The  play, 
conscientiously  examined,  was  deemed  simply 
detestable,  and  the  referee  adjudged  that  Balzac 
might  do  what  he  would,  but  that  literature  was 
certainly  not  his  vocation. 

From  this  decision  there  was  no  present  ap- 
peal ;  and  while  his  mother  and  sisters  begged 
him  to  engage  in  some  other  occupation,  his 
father  assured  him  that  he  would  suppress  his 
allowance  should  he  persist  in  his  intentions. 
Another  perhaps  would  have  yielded,  but  his 
pride  and  belief  in  his  destiny  made  his  reso- 
lution unalterable,  and  Balzac  was  left  in  soli- 
tary sadness  to  meditate  on  the  coquetries  of 
the  Muse. 

"  I  delighted,"  he  says  in  "  La  Peau  du  Cha- 
grin," *'  in  the  thought  that  I  should  live  in  the 
midst  of  tumultuous  Paris  in  an  inaccessible 
sphere  of  work  and  silence,  in  a  world  of  my 
own,  of  books  and  ideas,  where  like  the  chrys* 
alls  I  should  build  a  tomb  only  to  emerge  again 
brilliant  and  famous. 


14  Balzac. 

"  I  took  the  chances  of  dying  to  live.  In  re- 
ducing existence  to  its  actual  needs,  I  found 
that  three  sous  for  charcuterie  prevented  me 
from  dying  of  hunger  and  preserved  my  mind 
in  a  state  of  singular  lucidity,  while  enabling 
me  at  the  same  time  to  observe  the  wonderful 
effects  which  diet  produces  on  the  imagina- 
tion. My  lodging  cost  three  sous  a  day,  I 
burned  at  night  three  sous'  worth  of  oil,  and  for 
two  sous  more  I  heated  my  room  with  char- 
coal :  and  in  this  manner  I  lived  in  my  aerial 
sepulchre,  working  night  and  day  with  such 
pleasure  that  study  seemed  the  most  beautiful 
theme,  the  happiest  solution,  of  existence.  The 
calm  and  silence  necessary  to  the  student 
possess  an  indescribable  something  which  is  as 
sweet  and  intoxicating  as  love,  and  study  it- 
self seems  to  lend  a  sort  of  magic  to  all  that 
surrounds  us.  The  forlorn  desk  on  which  I 
wrote,  my  piano,  my  bed,  my  chair,  the  zigzags 
of  the  wall-paper,  —  all  these  things  became  as 
though  animated  and  humble  friends,  the  silent 
accomplices  of  my  future.  Many  a  time  I  have 
communicated  my  soul  to  them  in  a  glance, 
and  often  in  looking  at  the  broken  moulding 
I  encountered  new  developments  of  thought, 
some  striking  proof  of  my  system,  or  words 
which  I  considered  peculiarly  fitted  to  express 
ideas  almost  untranslatable." 

Balzac  had  not  as  yet  any  settled  plan  of 


The  Vagaries  of  Genius.  15 

work,  but  he  tried  his  hand,  while  forming  his 
style,  at  a  quantity  of  comic  operas,  dramas, 
comedies,  and  romances,  none  of  which,  how- 
ever, were  accepted  save  by  the  gutter's  sneer- 
ing fatalist,  the  ragpicker. 

After  many  fruitless  attempts  and  knocks  at 
many  a  door,  Balzac  succeeded  at  last  in  find- 
ing a  publisher,  but  of  a  type  seen  only  in 
opera  bouffe,  who  proffered  in  payment  of  a 
romance  a  promissory  note  with  a  year  to  run. 
Balzac  of  course  had  no  choice.  He  wished 
to  appear  in  print.  The  bargain  was  concluded, 
and  the  "  Hdritibre  de  Birague  "  was  produced. 
Then,  under  various  pseudonyms,  such  as  Lord 
R'hoone,  the  anagram  of  Honord,  Dom  Rago, 
M.  de  Viellergld,  and  Horace  de  Saint-Aubin, 
he  produced  a  quantity  of  novels  somewhat 
after  the  style  of  Pegault  Lebrun,  and  yet  so 
diverse  in  treatment  that  one  of  them,  '*  Wann- 
Chlore,"  *  was  attributed  to  a  luminary  of  the 
Romantic  school,  and  another,  "  Annette  et  le 
Criminel,"  was  suppressed  by  the  censorship. 
Some  of  these  books,  whose  paternity  he  al- 
ways denied,  have  since  been  collected  under 
the  title  of  "  (Euvres  de  Jeunesse,"  but  of  the 
greater  part  no  trace  remains. 

Exhausted  by  privations  and  worn  with  con- 
tinued study,  Balzac  was  obliged  to  return  to 
his  family,  then  established  at  Villeparisisj 
1  The  present  title  is  Jane  la  Pdle. 


l6  Balzac. 

where,  broken  in  mind  and  health,  he  sank  into 
an  almost  hopeless  dejection. 

"Is  this  what  you  term  life,"  he  wrote ^  to 
his  sister,  —  "  this  involuntary  rotation  and  per- 
petual return  of  the  same  things  ?  I  am  in  the 
springtide  of  a  flowerless  life,  and  I  long  to 
have  some  charm  thrown  over  my  chill  exist- 
ence ;  for  of  what  use  is  fortune  and  pleasure 
when  youth  is  gone  ?  Of  what  use  is  the  ac- 
tor's gown  if  he  play  no  longer  his  part  ?  Old 
age  is  a  man  who  has  dined  and  looks  at  others 
eat ;  and  I,  I  am  yoimg,  and  I  hunger  before 
an  empty  plate  —  Laura,  Laura,  shall  I,  then, 
never  realize  my  two  immense  desires,  to  be 
celebrated  and  to  be  loved  ? " 

But  Balzac  soon  wearied  of  this  plaintive  in- 
activity, and,  fertile  in  projects,  conceived  the 
plan  of  printing  Molibre  complete  in  one  vol- 
ume, and  of  following  it  with  similar  editions 
of  the  French  classics.  When  these  had  ap- 
peared, he  proposed,  like  Richardson,  to  pro- 
duce his  own  works,  and  his  illuminous  im- 
agination immediately  foresaw  new  Clarissas 
issuing  from  the  press. 

The  necessary  working  capital  he  procured 
from  his  family,  who,  though  far  from  rich, 
were  none  the  less  glad  to  aid  him  in  an  enter- 
prise for  which  literature  would  be  abandoned 
and  a  legitimate  business  adopted. 

1  Correspondance  de  H.  de  Baixac,  Caltnann  Levy, 
Paris,  1877. 


The  Vagaries  of  Genius.  17 

But  after  the  publication  of  Molibre  and  La 
Fontaine,  in  each  of  which  he  inserted  an  elab- 
orate and  original  introduction,  he  was  obliged, 
through  the  cabals  of  the  other  publishers,  to 
relinquish  his  plan,  while  burdened  at  the  same 
time  with  a  load  of  debt  which  oppressed  al- 
most every  hour  of  his  after  life. 

He  was  now  absolutely  without  resources. 
The  expense  of  a  few  sous  attending  the  car- 
riage of  a  letter,  an  omnibus  ride,  anything,  in 
fact,  which  demanded  the  outlay  of  ready 
money,  he  was  obliged  to  forego,  and  even  re- 
mained in  his  garret  that  he  might  preserve 
as  long  as  possible  the  only  shoes  which  he 
owned. 

"  My  sole  possessions,"  he  wrote  to  his  sis- 
ter, "  are  my  books,  which  I  cannot  part  with, 
and  my  good  taste,  which  unfortunately  for  the 
rich  cannot  be  bought.  If  I  were  in  prison  I 
should  be  happier ;  life  then  would  cost  me 
nothing,  and  in  any  event  I  could  not  be  more 
of  a  captive  than  I  am." 

But  the  pecuniary  loss  which  he  had  sus- 
tained, and  which  amounted  to  about  120,000 
francs,  served  but  as  a  stimulus  to  renewed  ac- 
tivity ;  and  resolving  that  he  would  recover  from 
the  printing  press  all  that  it  had  robbed  him  of, 
he  commenced  to  seek  some  undiscovered  vein 
of  literary  treasure,  and  in  1829  brought  out 
"  Le  Dernier  Chouan,"  the  first  romance  which 


1 8  Balzac. 

he  considered  worthy  to  bear  his  own  name.  Its 
ferocity  and  passion  attracted  great  attention, 
and  the  public  became  at  once  favorably  dis- 
posed toward  him;  but  when,  a  few  months 
later,  the  "  Physiologic  du  Mariage  "  appeared, 
its  success  was  not  only  instantaneous,  but  Bal- 
zac was  heralded  as  a  new  Molibre.  He  now 
emerged  from  quasi  obscurity  into  the  white 
light  of  fame.  Publishers  were  submissive, 
praise  was  unstinted.  He  had  realized  the  first 
of  his  immense  desires,  and  had  it  not  been  for 
his  weight  of  debt  he  might  perhaps  have  been 
able  to  realize  the  other,  but  his  time  was  not 
his  own.  He  labored,  if  possible,  more  inces- 
santly than  ever,  conceived  the  plan  of  the 
"Comddie  Humaine,"  and  from  that  time  up  to 
almost  the  day  of  his  death  produced  a  series 
of  masterpieces  which  in  point  of  interest  and 
erudition  form  the  most  gigantic  monument  in 
the  history  of  modern  literature. 

His  work  accompanied  him  wherever  he  went. 
He  dreamed  of  it ;  he  wrote  while  he  ate ;  he 
traveled  over  the  better  part  of  Europe,  and 
wrote  while  he  traveled ;  he  composed  in  the 
omnibus  and  in  the  street ;  and  had  he  had  a 
mistress  he  would,  in  all  probability,  have  fol- 
lowed the  example  of  Baudelaire,  and  composed 
in  her  arms.  Thoroughly  conscientious,  he 
invariably  visited  the  place  where  the  scenes  of 
a  drama  were  to  be  located.     *'  I  am  going  to 


The  Vagaries  of  Genius.  19 

Alengon,"  he  would  say;  "you  know  Mile.  Cor- 
mon  ^  lives  there ; "  or,  "  I  am  off  for  Greno- 
ble ;  there  is  where  M.  Benassis  ^  lives  :  "  for  it 
should  be  remembered  that  not  only  were  Bal- 
zac's characters  as  realistically  vivid  to  him  as 
are  the  hallucinations  of  a  neurosthene,  but 
he  invariably  spoke  of  them  as  another  would 
of  friends  and  acquaintances.  "  Let  us  talk  of 
realities,"  he  one  day  said  to  Jules  Sandeau, 
who  had  been  speaking  to  him  of  an  invalid  rel- 
ative, "  let  us  talk  about  '  Eugdnie  Grandet ; ' " 
and  at  another  time,  when  his  sister  asked  for 
some  information  about  Captain  Jordy,^  Balzac 
replied  very  simply,  "*'!  never  knew  the  man 
before  he  came  to  Nemours,  but  if  he  interests 
you,  I  will  try  to  learn  something  of  him."  It 
was  a  long  time  before  he  was  able  to  find  a 
suitable  husband  for  Mile.  Camille  Grandlieu, 
and  rejected  all  who  were  suggested  to  him. 
"They  are  not  in  the  same  set,"  he  would  say. 
"  Chance  alone  can  supply  her  with  a  husband, 
and  chance  is  a  commodity  which  a  novelist 
should  use  but  sparingly.  Reality  alone  justi- 
fies the  improbable,  and  the  probable  alone  is 
permitted  to  us."  But  Mile,  de  Grandlieu  was 
not  destined  to  braid  St.  Catherine's  tresses, 
and  afterwards,  to  Balzac's  great  delight,  found 

*  Les  Rivnlitis. 

2  Le  Midecin  de  Campagne. 

'  Ur stile  Mirouet. 


20  Balzac. 

a  suitable  husband  in  the  person  of  the  young 
Comte  de  Restaud,^  who  in  spite  of  his  mother's 
derelictions  ^  was  otherwise  a  very  acceptable 
suitor. 

After  the  place  of  his  novel  had  been  visited, 
viewed  from  every  aspect,  the  customs  noted  and 
the  localisms  acquired,  Balzac  would  return  to 
Paris,  shut  himself  up  in  a  garret,  —  the  garret 
has  its  poetry,  —  and  for  weeks  and  sometimes 
months  at  a  time  he  would  not  only  disappear 
entirely  from  view,  but  all  trace  of  him  would 
be  lost. 

At  other  times,  he  would  lodge  under  an  as- 
sumed name,  which  he  imparted  only  to  his  most 
intimate  friends.  "  My  address,"  he  wrote  to 
Madame  Carraud  in  1834,  "is  always  Madame 
Veuve  Durand,  13,  Rue  des  Batailles  ;"  and  in 
1837,  he  wrote  to  Dablin,  "To  see  the  Widow 
Durand,  a  name  must  be  given.  Yours  is  on 
the  list." 

"  The  house,"  Gautier  wrote,^ "  of  the  Widow 
Durand  was  as  well  guarded  as  the  Garden  of 
the  Hesperides.  Two  or  three  passwords  were 
exacted,  and  that  they  might  not  become  vul- 
garized they  were  frequently  changed.  Among 
others,  I  recall  the  following.     On  telling  the 

1  Gobseck. 
*  Le  Ph-e  Goriot. 

'  Honori  de  Balzac,  par  Theophile  Gautier.  Un  vot 
ume  in-i8,  chez  Poulet-Malanis,  1859. 


The  Vagaries  of  Genius,  21 

janitor  that  the  season  for  prunes  had  arrived, 
the  visitor  was  permitted  to  cross  the  thresh- 
old ;  to  the  servant  who  prowled  about  the 
head  of  the  stairway,  it  was  necessary  to  mur- 
mur '  I  bring  laces  from  Belgium  ; '  and  on  as- 
suring the  valet  de  chambre  that  Madame 
Bertrand  was  in  excellent  health,  the  visitor 
was  ushered  into  the  great  man's  presence." 

It  was  in  the  Rue  des  Batailles  that  the 
famous  boudoir  of  the  "  Fille  aux  Yeux  d'Or  " 
actually  existed ;  and  though  its  luxury  would 
not  appear  unusual  to-day,  it  was,  nevertheless, 
a  source  of  continual  wonder  to  his  Bohemian 
friends,  and  his  own  description  of  it  is  not  de- 
void of  interest :  ^  — 

*'  One  side  of  the  boudoir  formed  a  graceful 
semicircle,  while  in  the  centre  of  the  other, 
which  was  perfectly  square,  there  shone  a  man- 
tel-piece of  marble  and  gold.  The  door,  which 
was  concealed  behind  a  rich  portibre  of  tapestry, 
was  directly  in  front  of  the  window. 

"  In  the  horseshoe  was  a  Turkish  divan,  fifty 
feet  in  circumference  and  as  high  as  a  bed. 
The  covering  was  of  white  cashmere  tufted  with 
bows  of  black  and  lilac  silk,  which  were  disposed 
as  at  the  angles  of  a  lozenge. 

"  The  back  of  this  immense  bed  rose  several 
inches  above  a  pile  of  cushions,  which  added  to 
the  general  effect  by  their  coloring  and  artistic 
arrangement. 

'^  La  Fille  aux  Yeux  (T  Or. 


22  Balzac. 

"  The  boudoir  was  hung  with  a  red  material, 
over  which  was  draped  an  Indian  muslin  fluted 
like  a  Corinthian  column  by  a  piping  alter- 
nately hollow  and  round,  and  bordered  at  top 
and  bottom  by  a  band  of  lilac  embroidered 
with  black  arabesques.  Beneath  the  muslin  the 
red  became  pink,  and  this  delicate  shading  was 
repeated  in  the  window  curtains,  which  were  of 
Indian  muslin  lined  "with  pink  silk  and  orna- 
mented with  a  fringe  of  black  and  lilac. 

"  At  equal  distances  on  the  wall  above  the 
divan  were  six  sockets  of  silver-gilt,  each  of 
which  supported  two  candles,  while  from  the 
centre  of  the  ceiling  hung  a  highly  polished 
lustre  of  the  same  material. 

"  The  carpet  was  like  a  camel's-hair  shawl, 
and  seemed  a  mute  reminder  of  the  poetry  of 
Persia.  The  furniture  was  covered  with  white 
cashmere  relieved  by  lilac  and  black.  The 
clock  and  candelabras  were  of  gold  and  marble. 
The  one  table  which  the  boudoir  contained  was 
covered  with  white  cashmere,  while  all  about 
were  jardinieres  of  white  and  red  roses." 

Behind  the  semicircle  was  a  secret  passage, 
at  one  end  of  which  was  an  iron  cot  and  at  the 
other  a  desk ;  and  here  it  was  that  Balzac,  se- 
cure from  intrusion,  worked  and  composed  at 
his  ease. 

To  return,  however,  to  the  Widow  Durand. 
In  1838  he  wrote  to  Madame  Hanska,  the 
lady  who  subsequently  became  his  wife  :  — 


The  Vagaries  of  Genius.  23 

"The  Widow  Durand  is  dead.  She  was 
killed  by  the  contemptible  conduct  of  the  daily 
papers,  who  have  betrayed  a  secret  which  should 
have  been  sacred  to  every  man  of  honor." 

After  this  misfortune  Balzac  installed  himself 
openly  at  Les  Jardies,  a  country  house  which 
he  had  built  at  Ville  d'Avray,  and  where  he 
was,  as  he  expressed  it,  "  like  the  lantern  of 
Demosthenes,  and  not,  as  every  one  else  says, 
of  Diogenes ; "  but  when,  a  year  or  two  later, 
he  took  up  his  residence  in  the  Rue  Basse,  at 
Passy,  he  surrounded  himself  with  all  his  for- 
mer precautions,  instituted  a  series  of  counter- 
signs which  he  changed  weekly,  and  trans- 
formed himself  into  "  Madame  Bri.  .  .  ." 
•  When  guarded  in  this  way  from  any  intru- 
sion, Balzac  would  work  from  twelve  to  twenty- 
one  hours  a  day.  His  usual  hours  of  sleep  were 
from  six  in  the  evening  until  midnight.  Then 
he  would  bathe,  don  the  white  robe  of  a  Do- 
minican friar,  poise  a  black  skull  cap  on  his 
head,  and,  under  the  influence  of  coffee  and 
by  the  light  of  a  dozen  candles,  would  work 
incessantly  till  he  could  work  no  more. 

His  work  completed,  the  lion  would  forsake 
his  den,  and  for  an  evening  or  two  he  would 
be  seen  in  the  Loge  Infernale  at  the  opera, 
invariably  carrying  a  massive  cane  whose  head 
glittered  with  jewels,  and  which  Madame  de 
Girardin  was  pleased  to  imagine  rendered  him 


24  Balzac. 

invisible  at  will ;  ^  or  he  would  make  brief  ap- 
paritions in  the  salons  of  the  literati  and  no- 
bility, and  then,  suddenly,  without  a  word  of 
warning,  he  would  shut  himself  up  as  impene- 
trably as  before. 

His  manner  of  writing  was  stamped  with  the 
same  eccentricity  which  characterized  all  his 
habits.  When  a  subject  which  he  proposed  to 
treat  had  been  well  considered,  he  would  cover 
thirty  or  forty  sheets  with  a  scaffolding  of  ideas 
and  phrases,  which  he  then  sent  off  to  the 
printer,  who  returned  them  in  columns  wired 
and  centred  on  large  placards.  The  work, 
freed  in  this  way  from  any  personality  and  its 
errors  at  once  apparent,  was  then  strengthened 
and  corrected.  On  a  second  reading  the  forty 
pages  grew  to  a  hundred,  two  hundred  on  the 
third,  and  so  on,  while  on  the  proof-sheets 
themselves  new  lines  would  start  from  the  be- 
ginning, the  middle,  or  the  end  of  a  phrase  ;  and 
if  the  margins  were  insufficient,  other  sheets  of 
paper  were  pinned  or  glued  to  the  placards, 
which  were  again  and  again  returned,  corrected, 
and  reprinted,  until  the  work  was  at  last  satis- 
factorily completed. 

But  perhaps  the  most  graphic  description 
of  Balzac's  manner  of  writing  is  the  one  con- 
tained in  an  article  by  Edouard  Ourliac  in  the 

1  See  La  Canne  de  M.  de  Balzac,  par  Madame  de  Girar- 
din.  Dumont,  1838. 


The  Vagaries  of  Genius.  25 

"Figaro"  for  the  15th  of  December,  1837,  of 
which  the  following  is  a  free  translation  :  — 

THE  MISFORTUNES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF  CESAR 
BIROTTEAU  BEFORE  HIS  BIRTH. 

Let  US  sing,  drink,  and  embr'ace,  like  the 
chorus  in  an  opera  bouffe ;  let  us  waft  kisses 
in  the  air  and  turn  on  our  toes,  as  they  do  in 
the  ballet. 

Let  us  rejoice  now  that  we  may.  The  "  Fi- 
garo," without  appearing  to  have  done  so,  has 
conquered  the  elements,  all  the  malefactors, 
and  every  sublunary  cataclysm. 

The  "  Figaro  "  has  conquered  Cdsar  Birot- 
teau. 

Never  did  the  angered  gods,  never  did  Juno, 
Neptune,  M.  de  Rambuteau,  or  the  prefect  of 
the  police,  oppose  against  Jason,  Theseus,  or 
the  wayfarers  of  the  capital,  greater  obstacles, 
monsters,  ruins,  dragons,  demolitions,  than  these 
two  unhappy  octavos.  We  have  them  at  last, 
and  we  know  their  cost. 

The  public  will  have  but  the  trouble  to  read 
them,  though  that  should  count  as  a  pleasure. 

As  to  M.  de  Balzac,  twenty  days  of  labor, 
two  reams  of  paper,  another  masterpiece,  that 
counts  as  nothing. 

Whatever  else  it  may  be  considered,  it  is  at 
least  a  typographical  exploit  and  a  worthy  ex- 
ample of  literary  and  commercial  heroism. 


26  Balzac. 

Writer,  publisher,  and  printer,  all  deserve  the 
praise  of  their  countrymen. 

Posterity  will  gossip  about  the  binders,  and 
our  grand-nephews  will  regret  that  they  do  not 
know  the  names  of  the  apprentices. 

I  regret  it  myself,  —  otherwise  I  would  tell 
them. 

The  "Figaro"  promised  the  book  for  the 
15  th  of  December,  and  M.  de  Balzac  began  it 
on  the  17  th  of  November. 

M.  de  Balzac  and  the  "  Figaro "  have  the 
singular  habit  of  keeping  their  word. 

The  printing-press  was  prepared,  and  pawed 
the  ground  like  an  excited  charger. 

M.  de  Balzac  sent  immediately  two  hundred 
sheets,  scribbled  in  five  nights  of  fever. 

Every  one  knows  how  he  writes.  It  was  an 
outline,  a  chaos,  an  apocalypse,  a  Hindu  poem. 

The  office  paled.  The  time  was  short,  the 
writing  unheard  of.  The  monster  was  trans- 
formed and  translated  as  nearly  as  possible 
into  familiar  signs.  No  one  could  make  head 
or  tail  of  it.  Back  it  went  to  the  author.  The 
author  sent  back  the  first  two  proofs  glued  on 
enormous  placards. 

It  was  frightful,  it  was  pitiful.  From  each 
sign,  from  each  printed  word,  shot  a  penstroke, 
gleaming  and  gliding  like  a  sky-rocket,  and 
bursting  at  the  extremity  in  a  luminous  fire 
of  phrases,  epithets,  substantives,  underlined, 


The  Vagaries  of  Genius.  27 

crossed,  intermingled,  erased,  and  superposed. 
Its  aspect  was  simply  dazzling. 

Fancy  four  or  five  hundred  arabesques  of 
this  kind,  interlacing,  knotted  together,  climb- 
ing and  slipping  from  one  margin  to  another 
and  from  the  bottom  to  the  top. 

Fancy  twelve  geographical  maps  entangling 
cities,  rivers,  and  mountains  in  the  same  confu- 
sion, a  skein  harassed  by  a  cat,  all  the  hiero- 
glyphics of  the  Pharonian  dynasty,  or  twenty 
fireworks  exploding  at  once. 

The  office  then  was  far  from  gay.  The  type- 
setters beat  their  breasts,  the  presses  groaned, 
the  proof-readers  tore  their  hair  and  the  ap- 
prentices became  howling  idiots.  The  most 
intelligent  recognized  the  Persian  alphabet, 
others  the  Madagascan,  while  one  or  two  con- 
sidered them  to  be  the  symbolic  characters  of 
Vishnu. 

They  worked  on  chance  and  by  the  grace  of 
God. 

The  next  day  M.  de  Balzac  sent  back  two 
pages  of  the  purest  Chinese.  It  was  then  the 
I  St  of  December.  A  generous  typesetter  of- 
fered to  blow  out  his  brains.  Then  other 
sheets  were  brought,  written  in  the  most  legible 
Siamese.  Three  compositors  lost  their  sight 
and  the  little  French  that  they  knew. 

The  proofs  were  sent  back  seven  consecutive 
times ;  then,  a  few  symptoms  of  excellent  French 


28  Balzac. 

appeared,  and  there  was  even  noticed  a  certain 
connection  between  the  phrases ;  but  the  day 
was  fast  approaching,  and  we  felt  that  the  book 
would  never  appear. 

Desolation  was  at  its  height,  and  it  was  at 
this  point  that  the  work  became  further  compli- 
cated by  an  admirable  concourse  of  calamities. 

At  the  time  when  haste  was  the  greatest,  the 
miserable  being  who  that  night  carried  the 
proof-sheets  to  M.  de  Balzac  was  waylaid  and 
robbed. 

M.  de  Balzac  had  had  the  forethought  to  es- 
tablish himself  at  Chaillot.  The  miserable  be- 
ing screamed  and  yelled.  The  bandits  took  to 
their  heels.  One  proof-sheet  was  found  at 
Neuilly,  another  in  an  orchard,  a  third  descend- 
ing the  Seine.  It  is  certain  that  they  were 
thrown  away  only  on,  account  of  their  illegi- 
bility.    Misfortune  has  its  advantages. 

The  proofs  were  recovered,  but  the  night  was 
lost.  There  were  cries  and  gnashing  of  teeth. 
The  end  was  fast  approaching.  However,  the 
typesetters  took  courage  and  the  workmen  took 
the  bit  in  their  teeth.  The  office  galloped. 
The  compositors  foamed  at  the  mouth,  the 
presses  ravened,  the  binders  were  on  springs, 
the  apprentices  danced  with  excitement,  the 
proof-reader  shook  like  an  epileptic,  and  the 
foreman  had  convulsions.  The  ofl&ce  was  a 
cage  of  palsied  lunatics. 


The  Vagaries  of  Genius.  29 

The  work  was  again  taken  in  hand,  and  M.  de 
Balzac  and  the  "  Figaro  "  have  kept  their  word. 

"  C^sar  Birotteau  "  will  see  the  light  of  day 
on  the  15  th  of  December.  We  have  it  now, 
and  we  hold  it  tight.  The  office  is  armed,  in- 
sured, and  barricaded.  Smoking  is  not  per- 
mitted. There  are  lightning-rods  on  the  roof, 
and  mounted  guards  at  the  door. 

Every  precaution  has  been  taken  against  ac- 
cidents and  the  ardor  of  our  subscribers. 

At  this  moment  "  C^sar  Birotteau  "  is  a  work 
in  two  volumes,  an  immense  tableau,  an  entire 
poem,  composed,  written,  and  corrected  fifteen 
times  by  M.  de  Balzac  in  twenty  days,  and  de- 
ciphered, disentangled,  and  reprinted  fifteen 
times  in  the  same  period.  It  may  be  added 
that  M.  de  Balzac  kept  forty  other  workmen 
busy  with  something  else  at  another  office. 

We  will  not  now  consider  the  value  of  the 
work. 

It  may  be  everything,  or  but  a  masterpiece. 

The  names  of  Balzac's  characters  are  all 
taken  from  real  life ;  for,  like  Dickens,  his  the- 
ory was  that  names  which  were  invented  gave 
no  life  to  imaginary  creations,  and,  as  did  the 
English  novelist,  he  gathered  many  of  them 
from  the  signboards  in  the  street.  His  joy  at 
the  discovery  of  Matifat  was  almost  as  great  as 
his  delight  in  finding  Cardot.     He  found  the 


30  Balzac. 

former  in  the  Rue  de  la  Perle,  in  the  Marais.  "  I 
can  see  him  now,"  he  said ;  "  he  will  have  the 
pallid  face  of  a  cat.  But  Cardot  is  different :  he 
will  be  dry  as  a  bone,  hasty  and  ill-tempered." 

In  1840,  Balzac  proposed  to  write  for  the 
"  Revue  Parisienne  "  —  a  periodical  which,  it 
may  be  explained,  appeared  but  three  times,  and 
whose  three  numbers  Balzac  wrote  entirely  — 
the  story  of  a  man  of  genius,  who,  used  as  a 
tool  by  others,  died  through  the  ingratitude  of 
those  whom  he  had  raised  to  magnificent  posi- 
tions, and  who  had  then  abandoned  him  to 
poverty  and  want. 

Such  a  character  needed  a  name  propor- 
tioned to  his  destiny  ;  a  name  which  explained 
and  announced  him  as  clearly  as  the  cannon- 
ball  announces  the  cannon ;  a  name  which 
would  be  peculiarly  his  own,  and  would  reflect 
his  face,  his  figure,  his  voice,  his  past,  his  fu- 
ture, his  genius,  his  passions,  his  misfortunes, 
and  his  glory. 

But  this  supernatural  alliance  of  man  and 
name  was  not  immediately  discoverable,  and 
Balzac,  who  had  put  into  circulation  as  many 
cognomens  as  are  contained  in  the  "  Almanach 
de  Gotha,"  expressed  himself  incapable  of  man- 
ufacturing it.  A  name,  he  considered,  could  no 
more  be  fabricated  than  could  granite  or  mar- 
ble. They  were  all  three  the  work  of  time  and 
revolutions.     They  made  themselves. 


The  Vagaries  of  Genius.  3 1 

As  a  last  and  supreme  resource,  therefore, 
he  set  out  one  day,  in  company  with  L^on  Goz- 
lan,  on  a  journey,  in  search  of  a  baptismal  sign- 
board for  his  hero ;  and  from  the  Barrifere  de 
rfitoile  to  the  summits  of  Montmartre  they 
zigzagged  across  Paris,  subjecting  every  name 
they  encountered  to  the  closest  scrutiny. 

Thousands  of  names  were  examined,  ana- 
lyzed, and  rejected,  until  at  last  Gozlan,  utterly 
worn  out,  refused  to  walk  another  step. 

Balzac  looked  at  him,  it  is  to  be  supposed, 
very  much  as  Columbus  looked  at  his  muti- 
nous sailors,  and  by  force  of  entreaties  ob- 
tained, not  three  days'  grace,  but  three  streets 
more. 

In  the  first  two  nothing  was  found,  but  at 
the  extremity  of  the  third  Balzac  suddenly 
changed  color,  and  cried  in  a  voice  broken  by 
emotion,  — 

"  There,  there  !  Read  that  name  ! " 

Above  a  narrow,  oblong  door,  which  opened 
on  a  sombre  courtyard,  there  hung  a  sign  which 
bore  for  device  the  name  of  Marcas, 

"  Our  journey  is  at  an  end  ! "  Balzac  ex- 
claimed ;  "  it  terminates  in  a  blaze  of  glory. 
The  name  of  my  hero  shall  be  Marcas.  Mar- 
cas contains  the  philosopher,  the  statesman, 
and  the  poet.  I  will  call  him  Z.  Marcas,  and 
thereby  add  to  his  name  a  flame,  a  tiara,  and  g 
star.    Nothing  could  be  better.   I  wonder,  how- 


32  Balzac. 

ever,  who  this  Marcas  is;  surely  some  great 
artist." 

"He  is  a  tailor,"  Gozlan  brutally  replied; 
"  there  is  another  sign  of  his  in  the  court- 
yard." 

Balzac  looked  deeply  chagrined. 

"  No  matter,"  he  said  ;  "  he  merited  a  better 
fate.  If  I  seem  annoyed,  it  is  not  that  I  am 
lacking  in  respect  for  tailors  in  general,  but 
because  his  calling  reminds  me  of  certain  debts 
and  a  few  protested  notes." 

A  day  or  two  later  the  "  Revue  Parisienne  " 
appeared,  and  with  it  the  story  of  Z.  Marcas, 
now  forming  part  of  the  "Scenes  de  la  Vie 
Politique  "  and  containing  the  following  mono- 
graph :  — 

"A  certain  harmony  existed  between  the 
man  and  the  name.  This  Z.  with  which  Mar- 
cas was  preceded,  which  was  to  be  seen  on 
the  address  of  his  letters,  and  with  which  he 
always  completed  his  signature,  —  this  last  let- 
ter of  the  alphabet  presented  to  the  imagina- 
tion a  something  which  was  indescribably  fatal. 

"  Marcas !  Repeat  over  to  yourself  this  name, 
composed  of  two  syllables  :  does  it  not  seem  to 
contain  a  sinister  significance  ?  does  it  not  seem 
as  though  its  owner  were  born  to  be  martyred. 

"  Though  weird  and  wild,  this  name  has 
nevertheless  the  right  to  descend  to  posterity ; 
it  is  well  composed,  it  is  easily  pronounced, 


The  Vagaries  of  Genius.  33 

and  possesses  the  brevity  required  of  famous 
names.  Is  it  not  as  soft  as  it  is  bizarre  ?  but 
does  it  not  also  seem  unfinished  ? 

"  I  would  not  dare  to  affirm  that  destiny  is 
uninfluenced  by  a  name,  for  between  the  deeds 
of  men  and  their  names  there  are  inexplicable 
affinities  and  visible  discords  which  at  once 
astonish  and  surprise.  But  this  subject  will 
some  day  assuredly  form  part  of  the  occult 
sciences. 

"  Does  not  the  Z.  present  a  thwarted  and  con- 
tradicted appearance  ?  does  it  not  represent 
the  contingent  and  fantastic  zigzags  of  a  tor- 
mented life  ?  What  ill  wind  can  have  blown  on 
this  letter  that  in  every  language  to  which  it  is 
admitted  commands  barely  fifty  words !  Mar- 
cas'  Christian  name  was  Zepherin.  Saint  TA- 
pherin  is  highly  venerated  in  Brittany.  Marcas 
was  a  Breton. 

"  Examine  the  name  again.  Z.  Marcas  !  The 
entire  existence  of  the  man  is  contained  in  the 
fantastic  assemblage  of  these  seven  letters. 
Seven  !  —  the  most  significant  of  the  cabalistic 
numbers.  Marcas  died  at  the  age  of  thirty- 
five  ;  his  life  therefore  was  composed  of  but 
seven  lustres.  Marcas !  Does  not  the  sound 
bring  to  you  the  idea  of  something  precious, 
broken  in  a  noiseless  fall  ? " 

The  fatality  which  Balzac  conceived  as  at- 
taching to  Marcas  was  by  no  means  limited  to 
.    3 


34  Balzac. 

this  imaginary  creation.  It  followed  him  into 
real  life,  and  was  at  one  time  a  source  of  such 
serious  preoccupation  that  he  stood  one  even- 
ing for  two  hours  in  the  square  of  the  Chateau 
d'Eau  confidently  awaiting  some  fortunate  oc- 
currence, and  like  Gautier  in  "  Mademoiselle  de 
Maupin  "  he  awoke  on  certain  days  in  a  state 
of  great  agitation,  trembling  at  every  noise,  and 
convinced  that  the  happiness  of  his  life  was 
somehow  at  stake. 

These  extraordinary  sensations  naturally  led 
to  a  belief  in  the  supernatural;  and  as  his 
mother,  who  was  also  interested  in  the  ab- 
normal, was  acquainted  with  all  the  celebrated 
mesmerists  and  mediums  of  the  day,  he  was 
readily  furnished  with  opportunities  of  experi- 
menting in  magnetism  and  clairvoyance.  His 
charming  story  of  "  Ursule  Mirouet "  unques- 
tionably proves  that  he  subsequently  became 
a  firm  believer  in  that  occult  electricity  which 
is  variously  known  as  the  Theopcea  of  the  an- 
cients, the  Akasa  of  the  modern  Hindu,  and 
the  psychic  force  of  Sergeant  Cox ;  while  his 
account  of  the  soul  -  projection  of  "  Seraphita '' 
is  vivid  enough  to  satisfy  the  most  exact- 
ing hierophant,  and  would  have  passed  him, 
initiate,  into  the  brotherhood  of  the  Theoso- 
phists. 

But  perhaps  the  most  curious  evidence  of  his 
every-day  faith  in  divination  is  that  contained 


The  Vagaries  of  Genius.  3$ 

in  the  two  following  extracts  from  his  corre- 
spondence :  — 

TO  M.  CHAPELAIN,  PHYSICIAN. 

Paris,  May,  1832. 

Sir,  —  I  am  attracted  by  the  power  of  som- 
nambulism, and  wonder  why  you  have  not 
sought  to  obtain  from  some  lucid  subject  the 
causes  of  this  disaster.^ 

Science  is  interested  therein,  and  its  dis- 
covery would  be  an  eternal  honor  to  us. 

Had  I  not  been  ill  for  a  week  past  I  would 
have  ascended  to  the  honors  of  practice,  and 
endeavored  to  convince  myself  whether  the 
power  of  a  somnambulist  was  limited  or  in- 
finite. 

The  second  extract  is  from  a  letter  addressed 
to  his  mother  a  year  later  :  — 

"  I  send  you  herewith  two  pieces  of  flannel 
which  I  have  worn  on  the  body.  Take  them  to 
M.  Chapelain,  and  when  he  has  examined  the 
first,  ask  of  him  the  cause  and  position  of  the 
malady''  and  how  it  should  be  treated.  See 
that  everything  is  clearly  explained.  Then 
with  the  second  piece  ask  the  why  and  where- 
fore of  the  blister  ordered  in  the  precedent 
consultation. 

1  The  cholera. 

'  Stomachic  disorders,  caused  by  the  abuse  of  coffee. 


36  Balzac. 

"Be  careful  to  keep  the  flannels  well  wrapped 
up,  that  the  emanations  may  not  be  disturbed." 

Balzac's  hatred  of  journalists  was  intense, 
and  from  Sainte-Beuve  down  to  the  most  in- 
significant penny-a-liner  all  were  enveloped  in 
the  same  superb  contempt. 

No  branch  of  the  profession  was  exempt 
from  this  antipathy,  and  critics  and  feuilleto- 
nistes  shared  alike  in  his  wholesale  condemna- 
tion :  — 

"  They  want  my  scalp,  do  they,  these  Mohi- 
cans of  the  press  !  Bah !  I  will  drink  out  of 
their  skulls." 

Drink  he  did,  indeed,  and  long  delicious 
draughts,  at  that ;  and  in  picking  up  with  the 
point  of  his  pen  the  venality,  envy,  and  petty 
spites  of  the  trade,  he  drew  in  the  "  Illusions 
Perdues,"  in  which  Jules  Janin  figures  in  the 
transparent  disguise  of  ^^tienne  Lousteau,  a 
picture  of  journalism  which  was  as  faithfully 
unpleasant  as  it  was  pitying  and  contemptuous. 
In  this  respect,  however,  it  is  well  to  state  that 
no  one  was  as  indifferent  to  the  opinion  of  the 
press  as  Balzac  himself.  He  rarely,  if  ever, 
read  the  criticisms  on  his  books,  and  left  them, 
in  the  consciousness  of  their  worth,  to  find  their 
level  unaided. 

One  of  the  causes  of  his  disdain  of  every- 
thing which  smacked  of  journalism  was  this: 
He  had  engaged  to  write  "  Seraphita  "  for  the 


The  Vagaries  of  Genius.  37 

"  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes,"  and  shortly  after 
the  story  had  been  delivered  he  learned  that  it 
was  published  at  St.  Petersburg.  Thinking,  as 
was  but  natural,  that  the  editor  had  been  the 
victim  of  some  audacious  theft,  he  hastened  to 
tell  him  what  he  had  heard  ;  and  his  astonish- 
ment may  be  readily  imagined  when  he  was 
informed  that  the  Russian  edition  had  ap>- 
peared  with  the  sanction  of  the  editor  himself, 
who  not  only  insisted  that  he  had  a  perfect 
right  to  do  as  he  pleased  with  the  manuscript, 
but  positively  refused  to  make  any  indemnity. 
Thereupon,  Balzac,  in  spite  of  the  remon- 
strances of  his  friends,  who  pointed  out  that 
any  contest  with  the  "  Revue,"  whose  word  was 
law,  would  inevitably  result  in  the  closing  of 
its  columns  to  him,  began  a  lawsuit,  alleging 
that,  independent  of  the  pecuniary  loss  which 
he  suffered,  a  precedent  of  this  kind,  once  es- 
tablished, would  in  the  future  be  highly  preju- 
dicial, not  only  to  him,  but  to  all  his  confreres. 
Much  to  his  amazement,  however,  the  defend- 
ant appeared  in  court  with  a  list  of  signatures 
of  almost  all  of  those  whom  he  had  sought  to 
defend  at  his  own  risk  and  peril,  who  attested 
that  from  a  literary  as  well  as  from  an  ethical 
standpoint  they  considered  the  action  of  the 
editor  of  the  "  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes  "  as 
eminently  right  and  proper. 
The  law  was,  none  the  less,  perfectly  clear. 


38  Balzac. 

Balzac  won  the  suit,  and  with  it  a  host  of  ene- 
mies, whose  hatred  was  so  vigorous  that  it 
barely  abated,  even  after  his  death.  Their  in- 
sults delighted  him.  "  Fire  away,"  he  would 
say  ;  "  the  armor  is  strong.  Your  abuse  is  an 
advertisement ;  your  praise  would  lull  the  pub- 
lic to  sleep,  but  your  diatribes  wake  them  up. 
Besides,  you  hit  the  mark  sometimes,  and  every 
fault  you  signalize  I  correct,  which  in  the  end  is 
so  much  gained." 

Among  the  host  of  enemies  thus  aroused 
were  those  who,  not  content  with  denying  his 
genius,  advanced  their  artillery  into  private 
life,  and  painted  him  in  the  possession  of  every 
vice  in  the  criminal  statutes ;  and  it  is  from  the 
falsehoods  of  these  guerrilleros  that  all  the  stu- 
pidities which  have  been  told  concerning  him 
found  their  primal  gestation.  Not  only  his  mo- 
rality, his  honesty,  his  sobriety,  were  attacked, 
but  even  his  name  was  denied  to  him.  The  de 
was  declared  not  only  an  affectation,  but  a 
theft ;  and  when  some  one  said  to  him,  in  allu- 
sion thereto,  "  But  you  are  no  connection  of  the 
De  Balzac  d'Entragues,"  "  Ah  !  am  I  not  ?  "  he 
answered  placidly.  "Well,  then,  so  much  the 
worse  for  them." 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  COMiDIE   HUMAINE. 

"  One  would  say  he  had  read  the  inscription  on  the  gates  of  Busjr 
rane,  — '  Be  bold ; '  and  on  the  second  gate,  —  '  Be  bold,  be  bold, 
and  evermore  be  bold ; '  and  then  again  had  paused  well  at  the  third 
gate,  —  '  Be  not  too  bold.'  "  —  Emerson,  Plato. 

The  general  plan  and  outline  of  the  "  Comd- 
die  Humaine  "  originated  in  a  comparison  be- 
tween humanity  and  animal  existence.  That 
which  Buffon  had  achieved  in  zoology,  Balzac 
proposed  to  accomplish  in  moral  science,  and 
the  habits  and  customs  as  well  as  the  vices  and 
virtues  of  his  contemporaries  found  in  him  a 
secretary  whose  inventory  offers  to  posterity 
an  elaborate  insight  into  the  every-day  life  of 
France  in  the  nineteenth  century,  and  realizes 
for  their  future  curiosity  that  work  which  the 
ancient  monarchies  have  neglected  to  bequeath 
to  us  as  their  own  civilizations. 

But  the  pictures  of  two  or  three  thousand  of 
the  most  striking  figures  of  an  epoch  required, 
in  a  general  history  of  society,  not  only  frames 
but  galleries,  and  tiie  work  therefore  is  divided 
into, 


40  Balzac. 

Scenes  de  la  Vie  Privde. 

Scenes  de  la  Vie  de  Province. 

Scenes  de  la  Vie  Parisienne. 

Scenes  de  la  Vie  Politique. 

Scenes  de  la  Vie  de  Campagne. 

These  six  subdivisions  are  grouped  under  the 
general  title  of  "  fitudes  de  Moeurs,"  and  in 
them  the  attempt  has  been  made  to  examine 
and  explain  the  general  causes  of  earthly  hap- 
piness and  misery,  as  demonstrated  in  the  re- 
sults obtainable  in  the  practice  of  the  great 
principles  of  order  and  mortality,  or  in  the  self- 
ish abandonment  to  purely  personal  interests. 

Happiness,  Balzac  considered,  consisted  in 
the  exercise  of  our  faculties  as  applied  to  reali- 
ties. But  inasmuch  as  its  principles  vary  with 
each  latitude,  and  ideas  of  right  and  wrong  find 
their  modifications  in  the  climate,  he  concluded 
that  morals  and  convictions  were  valueless 
terms,  and  that  happiness  was  to  be  found,  first, 
in  violent  emotions  which  undermine  existence ; 
second,  in  regular  occupations  functionating 
like  mechanism ;  or,  lastly,  in  the  study  of  the 
laws  of  nature  and  in  the  application  of  the 
lessons  thereby  derived. 

In  his  treatment  of  this  subject  he  has  pre- 
pared a  complete  history  of  the  effects  of  the 
agitation  of  social  existence,  and  each  of  the 
foregoing  divisions  represents  a  particular  as- 
pect of  life. 


The  Comidie  Humaine.  41 

In  the  "  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Priv6e,"  life  is 
represented  between  the  last  developments  of 
childhood  and  the  first  calculations  of  virility. 
These  scenes  contain  tableaux  of  the  emotions 
and  undefined  sensations  combined  with  pic- 
tures of  the  errors  committed  through  ignorance 
of  the  exigencies  of  the  world. 

The  "  Scenes  de  la  Vie  de  Province  "  repre- 
sents that  phase  of  existence  in  which  pas- 
sions, calculations,  and  ideas  take  the  place  of 
sensations,  impulses,  and  illusions.  The  in- 
stincts of  the  young  man  of  twenty  are  gener- 
ous ;  at  thirty  he  calculates  and  turns  egotist. 
These  scenes  therefore  initiate  the  reader  into 
the  thousand  aspects  of  the  transition  through 
which  a  man  passes  when  abandoning  the 
thoughtless  impulses  of  adolescence  for  the 
politic  attitudes  of  manhood.  Life  becomes 
serious :  positive  interests  jostle  with  violent 
passions,  disillusions  begin,  the  social  machin- 
ery is  revealed,  and  from  the  shock  of  moral 
or  pecuniary  interests  the  crime  bursts  in  the 
midst  of  the  most  tranquil  household. 

Herein  are  unveiled  the  petty  annoyances 
by  whose  periodicity  a  poignant  interest  is  con- 
centrated in  the  slightest  detail  of  existence. 
Herein  are  also  exposed  the  petty  rivalries,  the 
jealousies  bom  of  vicinage,  and  the  family 
worries,  whose  increasing  force  degrades  and 
weakens  the  most  resolute  wilL    The  charm  of 


42  Balzac. 

dreams  escapes ;  the  prosaic  and  the  matter  of 
fact  alone  exist ;  woman  reasons,  and  no  longer 
feels ;  she  calculates  where  before  she  gave. 
Life  is  now  ripened  and  shaded. 

In  the  "  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Parisienne  "  the 
questions  are  enlarged,  and  existence  painted 
in  bold  outlines  gradually  arrives  at  the  fron- 
tiers of  decrepitude.  Herein  purity  of  senti- 
ment is  exceptional :  it  is  broken  in  the  play  of 
interests  and  scattered  by  the  mechanism  of 
the  world.  Virtue  is  calumniated,  innocence  is 
purchased.  Passions  become  vices,  emotions 
ruinous  gratifications ;  everything  is  analyzed, 
bought,  and  sold.  Life  is  a  bazaar ;  humanity 
has  but  two  forms,  that  of  the  deceiver  and  the 
deceived  ;  it  is  a  struggle  and  a  combat,  and 
the  victor  is  he  who  best  throttles  society  and 
moulds  it  to  his  own  ends.  The  death  of  rel- 
atives is  awaited ;  the  honest  man  is  a  simple- 
ton ;  generosity  is  a  means,  religion  a  govern- 
mental necessity,  probity  a  policy ;  everything 
is  marketable;  absurdity  is  an  advertisement, 
ridicule  a  passport,  and  youth,  which  has  lived 
a  hundred  years,  insults  old  age. 

These  scenes  close  the  tableaux  of  individual 
existence,  and  their  three  frameworks  contain 
representations  of  youth,  manhood,  and  old  age. 
First  the  bloom  of  life,  the  expansion  of  the 
soul,  and  the  radiance  of  love ;  then  come  the 
calculations,    the   transformation   of    affection 


The  ComMie  Humaine.  43 

into  passion ;  and,  lastly,  the  accumulation  of 
interests  and  the  continual  satisfaction  of  the 
senses  joined  to  the  inevitable  weariness  of 
mind  and  body. 

Nothing  but  that  which  affects  the  individual 
proper  has  herein  been  treated,  and  the  frag- 
ments of  the  "  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Politique  "  ex- 
press, in  consequence,  a  wider  range  of  thought. 
In  these  pages  the  actors  represent  the  inter- 
est of  the  masses,  and  place  themselves  above 
those  laws  to  which  the  types  in  the  preceding 
series  were  subjected.  The  foregoing  divisions 
described  the  constant  antagonism  of  thought 
and  sentiment,  but  in  these  scenes  thought  is 
an  organizing  force  and  sentiment  is  completely 
abolished.  They  are,  however,  incomplete,  as 
are  also  the  "  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Militaire,"  in 
which  Balzac  proposed  to  represent  the  action 
as  taking  place,  not  in  an  apartment,  but  on 
the  battle-field  ;  not  in  the  struggle  of  man  with 
man,  but  in  the  concussion  of  France  and  Eu- 
rope, in  the  slaughter  of  the  conquered  and  the 
paeans  of  the  victors. 

After  these  pages,  whose  completion  was  pre- 
vented by  his  sudden  death,  the  calm  and  peace- 
ful pictures  of  the  "  Scenes  de  la  Vie  de  Cam- 
pagne  "  follow  in  orderly  sequence.  They 
represent  rest  after  exertion,  landscapes  after 
interiors,  the  hush  of  the  country  after  the  up- 
roar of  the  city,  the  cicatrice  after  the  wound. 


44  Balzac. 

This  last  division  contains  the  same  interests 
and  the  same  struggles,  but  weakened  now  by 
lack  of  contact,  like  passions  grown  dull  in  sol- 
itude. It  is  the  twilight  of  a  busy  day,  a  sum- 
mer evening  solemn  with  sombre  shadows.  It 
contains  the  purest  characters  and  the  applica- 
tion of  the  great  principles  of  order,  morality, 
and  religion,  and  its  actors,  worn  with  the  fa- 
tigues of  the  world,  mingle  complacently  with 
the  innocence  of  childhood.^ 

Thus  completed,  the  entire  work  has  its 
geography  and  its  own  genealogy,  its  localities 
and  their  concomitants,  its  personages  and 
their  deeds.  It  has  its  own  armorial,  its  nobil- 
ity and  middle  class,  its  artisans,  its  peasants, 
and  its  army.  It  is  a  world  in  itself.  But 
its  most  striking  feature  is  the  admirable  unity 
preserved  throughout ;  and  this  unity  is  un- 
doubtedly due  to  a  suggestion  derived  from 
the  works  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  whom  Balzac 
considered  as  a  gifted  sculptor  who  chiseled 
magnificent  figures  and  draped  them  with  gen- 
ius and  sublimity,  but,  while  presenting  the 
seductive  effects  of  a  marvelous  analysis,  left 
them  lacking  in  synthesis  and  totally  unrelated. 

"  The  Waverley  Novels,"  he  said,^  "  resemble 
the  Musde  de  la  Rue  des  Petits-Augustins,  in 

1  See  Introduction  by  M.  Felix  Davin  to  the  first  edi- 
tion of  the  Comidie  Humaine. 

2  Correspondance  de  H.  de  Balzac. 


The  Com^die  Humaine.  45 

which  each  object,  while  magnificent  in  design, 
relates  but  to  itself.  Genius  is  complete 
only  when  to  the  faculty  of  creating  it  joins 
the  power  of  coordinating  its  creations.  The 
gifts  of  observation  and  description  are  in 
themselves  insufficient  j  they  must  tend  to  a 
certain  result.  The  Scotch  bard  was  possessed 
of  too  clear  a  vision  not  to  have  understood 
this  axiom,  but  its  understanding  assuredly 
came  ioo  late."  To  this  reflection  the  unity  of 
the  "  Com^die  Humaine  "  is  probably  due ;  and 
that  it  may  not  be  objected  that  certain  of  its 
passages  are  unrelated  to  the  others,  it  is  well 
to  note  that  Balzac  died  too  suddenly  to  be  able 
to  connect  the  broken  threads,  which  in  any 
event  are  but  few  and  far  between. 

But  the  task  of  rendering  his  work  at  once 
interesting  and  instructive  was  one  of  much 
greater  difficulty  than  that  of  Scott's,  who  drew 
his  characters  from  former  days,  when  every 
class  of  society  was  clearly  defined,  and  clothed 
them  from  a  wardrobe  opulent  with  historical 
effects ;  whereas  Balzac  was  obliged  to  offer  in 
clear  relief  the  almost  imperceptible  differences 
of  the  types  of  yesterday  and  to-day,  that 
through  an  equality  of  fortune  and  education 
have  destroyed  the  contrasts  which  once  ex- 
isted between  the  different  degrees  of  the  social 
order.  Aided,  however,  by  that  peculiar  intu- 
ition which  never  forsook  him,  he  chose  from 


46  Balzac, 

among  the  physiognomies  of  his  epoch  an  as- 
sortment of  those  fugitive  traits  which  are  im- 
perceptible to  the  eyes  of  the  vulgar ;  and  in 
scrutinizing  face  after  face,  attentive  to  the 
changes  of  expression  and  inflections  of  voice, 
he  was  enabled  to  present  a  series  of  indivi(}- 
ualities  which  are  far  more  realistic  than  those 
of  his  illustrious  predecessor. 

After  displaying  in  the  "  ;^tudes  de  Moeurs  '* 
all  the  moral  and  physical  transformations 
through  which  mankind  passes,  and  after  de- 
scribing the  social  effects  of  their  natural  or 
civil  positions,  Balzac  sought  in  the  "  fitudes 
Philosophiques  "  to  demonstrate  the  causes  of 
these  effects;  and  while  the  first  part  of  the 
"  Comedie  Humaine  "  contains  but  a  series  of 
individualities  typified  in  the  treatment  of  his 
subject,  in  the  second  part  are  to  be  found 
the  same  types  individualized  :  as,  for  example, 
where  in  the  "  fitudes  de  Moeurs  "  Grandet  is 
purely  and  simply  a  miser,  avarice  in  the 
"  fitudes  Philosophiques  "  is  incarnated  in  the 
person  of  Maitre  Cornelius,  and  the  subject,  like 
a  sponge,  gains  in  weight  what  it  loses  in 
breadth. 

The  "  Etudes  Philosophiques "  is  the  fruit 
of  analyzed  comparisons  of  all  the  works  which 
the  philosophers  of  antiquity  and  the  special- 
ists of  his  day  had  produced  on  the  intellect ; 
and   starting  with   the  famous  axiom  of  Jean 


The  ComMie  Humaine.  47 

Jacques  Rousseau,  that  "  Thomme  qui  pense 
est  un  animal  deprave,"  —  an  idea  which,  as  is 
well  known,  found  its  poetic  interpretation  in 
Byron's  "  Manfred,"  and  its  dramatic  aspect  in 
the  "  Faust "  of  Goethe,  —  Balzac  proceeds  to 
prove  that  ideas  and  sentiments  are  simply 
dissolvents  of  a  greater  or  less  activity;  and 
taking  as  his  premises  the  admitted  fact  that 
instincts  violently  excited  by  factitious  or  for- 
tuitous circumstances  produce  unconsciousness 
and  even  death,  and  also  that  thought,  when 
augmented  by  the  transitory  force  of  passion, 
may  become  a  poison  or  a  dagger,  he  infers, 
from  the  ravages  produced  by  the  intellect, 
that  thought  is  the  most  active  agent  in  the 
disorganization  of  man,  and  consequently  of 
society.  "  Consider,"  he  says  in  "  Louis  Lam- 
bert," "  the  difference  between  mail  who  desires 
nothing  and  lives  like  a  plant  for  a  hundred 
years,  and  the  creating  artist  who  suffers  early 
death.  Where  the  sun  is,  there  is  thought  and 
brevity  of  existence ;  where  the  cold  is,  there  is 
torpor  and  longevity."  Then,  after  considering 
man  as  a  simple  organization,  he  brandishes  the 
proposition  that  vitality  decreases  in  exact  pro- 
portion to  the  strength  of  desire  and  the  dissi- 
pation of  thought,  and  leads  the  reader,  there- 
with, through  the  gradual  development  of  his 
theory,  which  is  first  attacked  in  "  La  Peau  du 
Chagrin."    This  weird  and  fantastic  production. 


48  Balzac. 

in  which  skepticism  and  the  supernatural  join 
hands,  represents  the  ravages  of  thought  and 
the  supreme  expression  of  egotism  as  seared 
by  the  hot  iron  of  civilization. 

In  "  La  Recherche  de  1' Absolu,"  the  theme 
is  continued,  but  viewed  in  a  broader  and  more 
comprehensive  light.  In  "  La  Peau  du  Cha- 
grin," the  individual  is  destroyed  by  the  force 
of  desire.  In  "La  Recherche  de  I'Absolu," 
the  pursuit  of  an  idea  annihilates  an  entire 
family.  The  first  is  the  world  of  pleasure,  an 
epoch  in  itself ;  the  second  is  the  world  of  sci- 
ence, and  glitters  with  brilliant  hypotheses. 
In  both  instances,  an  idea,  gradually  strength- 
ened, becomes  a  passion  and  a  disorganizing 
force.  In  "  L' Adieu,"  happiness,  exalted  to 
the  highest  degree,  becomes  a  destructive 
agency.  In'"Le  Requisitionnaire,"  a  mother 
is  killed  by  the  violence  of  maternal  affection. 
In  "  El  Verdugo,"  a  father  is  slain  by  his  son 
that  a  title  may  be  preserved.  In  "  Le  Drame 
au  Bord  de  la  Mer,"  a  son  is  slain  by  his 
father  that  an  hereditary  instinct  may  be  de- 
stroyed. In  "  Maitre  Cornelius,"  avarice  kills 
the  miser.  In  "Le  Chef  d'CEuvre  Inconnu," 
art  kills  the  artist.  In  "  Gambara,"  the  com- 
poser is  crazed  by  his  own  conceptions.  In 
"  L'Enfant  Maudit,"  terror  is  the  destroyer,  and 
the  subject  treated  herein  finds  a  natural  and 
logical  sequence  in  the  "  Auberge  Rouge."    In 


The  Com^die  Humaine.  49 

"Les  Proscrits,"  the  sentiment  of  religion  be- 
comes the  destroyer,  and  in  "  Seraphita "  the 
same  idea  is  more  vividly  presented.  "  Cesar 
Birotteau,"  an  existence  untroubled  by  misery, 
is,  through  sudden  good  fortune,  cut  off  as  by 
a  scythe.  In  the  "  figlise,"  the  agent  is  in- 
credulity, but  in  *'  Louis  Lambert "  is  to  be 
found  the  most  severe  deduction  from  the  fun- 
damental proposition  in  that  it  represents  the 
thinker  killed  by  thought. 

The  destructive  power  of  the  mind  and  im- 
agination, from  the  Neronian  conflagration  to 
the  suicide  of  Castlereagh  and  Chatterton,  the 
aphasia  of  Emerson,  and  the  insanity  of  Tour- 
gdnieff,  is  too  well  known  and  too  thoroughly 
understood  to  need  further  commentary  in 
these  pages  ;  and  in  connection  with  this  it 
need  but  be  said  that,  while  the  attraction  of 
gravity  had  been  witnessed  by  countless  gen- 
erations, as  it  remained  to  Newton  to  formulate 
the  obvious  propositions  of  cause  and  effect,  so 
in  this  branch  of  mental  science,  whose  results 
have  been  patent  since  the  beginning  of  his- 
tory, a  Balzac  was  necessary  for  the  full  eluci- 
dation of  the  subject,  and  for  the  proper  pres- 
entation of  the  conclusions  derived  from  the 
psycho-mental  evidence  of  ages. 

After  having,  in  the  "Etudes  de  Mceurs," 
described  society  in  every  aspect,  and  demon- 
strated in  the  "  Etudes  Philosophiques  "  all  the 
4 


50  Balzac. 

underlying  causes  of  the  general  results,  Balzac 
j>roposed  in  the  third  and  last  division  of  the 
**  Come'die  Humaine,"  namely,  in  the  "  ^fitudes 
Analytiques,"  to  examine  the  principles  upon 
ijrhich  the  first  two  rest. 

This  last  division,  however,  is  one  of  the 
few  unfinished  windows  of  his  Aladdin's  pal- 
ace, for,  out  of  the  six  volumes  which  it  was  to 
contain,  two  only  were  written  before  death  in- 
tervened. These  two  works,  the  "  Physiolo- 
gic du  Mariage  "  and  the  "  Petites  Miseres  de 
la  Vie  Conjugale,"  are  a  series  of  duos  between 
husband  and  wife,  augmented  at  times  by  the 
tenor  notes  of  the  amant.  The  first  is  dedi- 
cated to  the  reader,  and  contains  the  decep- 
tions of  the  husband  ;  the  second,  those  of  the 
wife.  At  once  malicious  and  diabolically  witty, 
these  two  books  are  as  delicately  analytical  as 
the  deductions  of  Leuwenhoeck  and  Swammer- 
dam,  and  abound  with  that  peculiar  though  re- 
freshing condiment  which  is  generally  known 
as  Gallic  salt. 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  these  two  books, 
the  first  of  which  was  published  at  the  outset 
of  the  author's  career,  and  the  second  towards 
the  close  of  his  life,  were  not  strengthened  and 
augmented  by  the  others  with  which  he  pro- 
posed to  accompany  them,  and  whose  subjects 
and  titles  —  namely,  "  Anatomic  des  Corps 
Enseignants,"  "  Pathologic  de  la  Vie  Sociale," 


The  ComMie  Humaine.  51 

"  Monographic  de  la  Vertu,"  "  Dialogue  Phi- 
losophique  et  Politique  sur  la  Perfection  du 
XIXe  Sibcle  "  —  have  alone  descended  tp  us  ; 
for  this  vein  of  literary  treasure  can  never  be 
profitably  worked  save  by  another  Balzac  or  a 
modern  Aristophanes. 

It  was  in  1844  that  Balzac  said,  "  The  first 
half  of  the  present  century  will  be  found  to 
have  been  greatly  influenced  by  four  men,  — 
Napoleon,  Cuvier,  O'Connell,  and  myself.  The 
first  lived  on  the  blood  of  Europe,  the  second 
espoused  the  globe,  the  third  became  the  in- 
carnation of  an  entire  race,  while  I  shall  have 
carried  a  complete  society  in  my  brain." 

Though  almost  another  half  century  has  now 
elapsed  since  these  words  were  uttered,  it  would 
seem  that  the  influence  which  he  was  then 
conscious  of  exerting  is  even  more  vigorous 
than  before.  The  characters  which  he  painted 
formed,  it  is  true,  part  of  a  Paris  now  dead  and 
forgotten,  but  the  types  have  survived,  and 
the  lessons  which  he  deduced  therefrom  are 
as  eminently  instructive  now  as  they  were  in 
the  days  when  he  wrote ;  and  while,  taking  the 
world  at  large  as  the  groundwork  of  his  edifice, 
man  was  necessarily  but  the  detail,  he  has,  in 
his  description  thereof,  painted  him  in  every 
phase,  —  consequent  and  inconsequent,  neither 
completely  good  nor  completely  vicious,  log- 
ical at  times,  and  sometimes  great,  but  inces- 


52  Balzac. 

santly  opposing  his  own  interests  to  the  laws 
of  society  in  that  gigantic  struggle  of  customs 
and  sentiments  which  is  as  inconsistent  to-day 
as  it  was  fifty  years  ago. 

When  the  "fiat  lux  "  was  pronounced,  and 
man  completed,  Balzac  turned  to  his  natural 
companion,  and  in  his  portraiture  of  woman 
not  a  single  type  is  lacking.  Herein  he  is  un- 
excelled and  unsurpassable.  That  which  Eu- 
ripides considered  as  the  most  terrible  of  all 
misfortunes,  and  De  Maistre  nothing  but  a 
beautiful  animal,  found  its  most  graphic  ex- 
pression through  him.  As  a  faithful  naturalist, 
he  has,  in  descending  the  spiral  of  civilization, 
described  and  classified  the  femma  simplex; 
but  the  ideal  woman,  sublime  in  her  errors, 
magnificent  in  her  devotion,  and  royal  in  her 
forgiveness,  has  found  her  geographer  in  him. 
His  descriptions  of  Madame  de  Beausdant,  the 
Duchesse  de  Langeais,  Madame  Firmiani,  the 
Countess  in  "  Colonel  Chabert,"  Madame  Claes, 
Madame  Jules,  Madame  de  Montsauf,  Beatrix, 
and  Mademoiselle  de  Touches  comprise  woman 
almost  in  her  entirety ;  they  are  landmarks  in 
psychological  study ;  and  so  true  to  nature  are 
they  that  their  appearance  marked  a  new  era 
in  literature. 

It  is  in  these  portraits  that  Balzac  is  most 
realistic  ;  and  while  a  few  of  the  most  admira- 
ble among  them  are  sometimes  erring,  yet  it 


The  Comidie  Humaine.  53 

will  be  admitted  that  womankind  is  not  com- 
posed exclusively  of  angels ;  perfection  is  often 
dull,  and  a  fault  may  be  a  virtue.  By  way  of 
contrast,  however,  he  has,  in  Eugenie  Grandet, 
Madame  Firmiani,  Madame  de  la  Chanterie, 
Marguerite  Claes,  Madame  Jules,  Agathe  Rou- 
get,  Pierrette,  Madame  Hulot,  and  Ursule  Mi- 
rouet,  not  only  solved  the  difficult  problem  of 
rendering  virtue  interesting,  but  he  has  created 
in  frames  of  impeccable  beauty  a  series  of  irre- 
proachable Madonnas. 

His  revelation  of  woman  is  completed  in  a 
special  and  parallel  study  of  love.  Love  he  con- 
sidered the  mainspring  of  humanity  ;  without  it, 
religion,  history,  romance,  and  art  would  be  use- 
less; and  he  has  analyzed,  dissected,  and  ex- 
plained its  every  phase,  hesitation,  palpitation, 
and  tenderness. 

Beyond  the  scenic  effects  which  he  lent  to 
passion,  Balzac  entered  thoroughly  into  the 
specialties  of  trade  and  profession,  and  it  seems 
almost  incredible  that  one  mind  could  have  grap- 
pled with  the  details  of  the  practice  of  law  which 
are  so  admirably  described  in  the  "  Contrat  de 
Mariage,"  in  his  portrait  of  Derville  the  law- 
yer, Peerquin  the  notary,  and  the  proceedings 
in  "Cdsar  Birotteau,"  while  imagining  such 
types  as  Vautrin,  who  dominated  Paris  from 
the  depths  of  the  galleys,  or  La  Fille  aux  yeux 
d'or  languishing  in  her  octagonal  boudoir. 


54  Balzac. 

As  Bianchou  he  is  alienist  and  physician  ;  in 
Dr.  Mlrouet  he  is  medium  and  mesmerist ;  he  is 
a  miser  in  Grandet  and  discounter  in  Gobseck ; 
he  is  vicar  at  Tours  and  old  maid  at  Issoudun. 
None  better  than  he  has  described  that  class 
of  fascinating  scoundrels  of  which  Rastignac  is 
the  type,  nor  painted  more  clearly  the  heralds 
of  ennui  and  philosophers  of  satiety  than  he 
has  done  in  De  Marsay  and  Maxime  de  Trailles. 
In  "  Les  Deux  Poetes  "  he  is  printer  and  man- 
ufacturer of  paper ;  in  the  "  Cousin  Pons  "  he 
presents  the  flower  of  an  imagination  intoxi- 
cated with  the  master  paintings  of  great  artists  ; 
while  in  the  "  Illusions  Perdues  "  the  journalist 
is  dissected  and  the  publisher  decomposed. 

In  the  veins  of  his  characters  there  is  not  a 
drop  of  ink;  they  live,  move,  and  have  their 
being,  and  their  eyelashes  are  as  delicately  fin- 
ished as  their  epigrams. 

Starting  from  the  mud  and  vermin  of  Pari- 
sian by-ways,  and  ascending  to  the  steps  of  the 
throne,  Balzac  garnered  every  possible  type,  no 
two  of  which  are  similar ;  each  is  original  and 
all  are  profoundly  human  ;  and  while  the  dregs 
of  London  are  not  further  removed  from  the 
splendors  of  Teheran  than  is  mother  Nourrison 
from  the  Due  de  Grandlieu,  yet  Balzac's  intui- 
tion divined  the  one  as  clearly  as  he  described 
the  other. 

In  his  transitions  and    contrasts,  however, 


The  ComMie  Humaine.  5  5 

there  is  as  little  abruptness  as  there  is  in  the 
marriage  of  the  blue  of  the  skies  with  the  green 
of  a  landscape  ;  changes  follow  in  orderly  and 
natural  sequence,  and  the  mind  of  the  reader  is 
only  confused  at  the  multiplicity  of  his  attain- 
ments, which  present  in  turn  houses  and  cos- 
tumes, interiors  and  countries,  intermingled 
with  plot,  science,  religion,  politics,  agriculture, 
erudition,  mysticism,  and  wit. 

Balzac  was  also  a  delicious  landscape  painter, 
and  his  scenes  from  Brittany  in  "Les  Chou- 
ans,"  his  landscapes  of  Touraine  and  particu- 
larly that  of  Vouvay  in  "  La  Femme  de  Trente 
Ans,"  the  grand  sketch  of  Norway  in  "  Sera- 
phita,"  that  of  the  Mediterranean  island  in 
"  La  Duchesse  de  Langeais,"  are  cited  by  Da- 
vin  as  masterpieces  of  graphic  description. 

The  resources  of  Balzac's  genius  are  perhaps 
as  clearly  exhibited  in  "  Eugdnie  Grandet "  as 
in  any  of  his  other  works,  and  the  appearance 
of  this  romance  gave  the  keynote  to  the  present 
Realistic  school.  "  Eugdnie  Grandet "  is  the 
conquest  of  absolute  truth  in  art.  It  is  the 
drama  applied  to  the  most  simple  events  of 
life ;  the  fusion  of  the  trivial  and  the  sublime, 
the  pathetic  and  the  grotesque.  It  is  a  pic- 
ture of  life  as  it  is,  and  the  model  of  what  a 
novel  should  be. 

The  w^/^  here  commenced  is  admirably  con- 
tinued in  "  Le  Curd  de  Tours,"  which  contains 


56  Balzac. 

none  of  those  elements  heretofore  considered 
indispensable  in  the  manufacture  of  fiction. 
From  these  pages  love  and  marriage  are  ban- 
ished ;  there  is  barely  an  event  to  be  mentioned, 
yet  the  dumb,  tortuous  struggle  between  the 
two  priests  is  at  once  clear  cut  and  peculiarly 
vivid.  Herein  the  most  humble  trivialities  of 
the  subject  are  elevated  and  dramatized,  and  to 
attentive  eyes  this  book  will  perhaps  contain 
the  secret  of  Balzac's  superiority ;  for  as  no  role 
is  poor  to  a  good  actor,  Balzac  in  this  story 
demonstrates  that  nothing  was  small  beneath 
his  pen. 

The  interiors  of  Gerard  Dow,  with  their  vast 
chimneys  lit  by  flickering  flames,  their  polished 
floors,  walls  hung  with  tapestries,  their  sculp- 
tured cornices  and  quaint  and  curious  furniture, 
their  shadowed  backgrounds  and  doors  which 
seem  about  to  open  upon  some  mysterious 
room,  are  to  be  found  in  "  La  Recherche  de 
I'Absolu,"  in  which  the  opulent  detail  of  the 
Flemish  school  is  equaled,  if  not  surpassed. 
Here,  as  in  "  Eugenie  Grandet,"  the  drama  is 
formed  of  the  fusion  of  the  trivial  and  the  sub- 
lime, and  for  the  proper  presentation  of  the  sub- 
ject he  extracted  from  the  past  of  chemistry  its 
possibilities  for  the  future. 

This  work,  as  is  the  case  with  almost  all  his 
others,  contains  evidence  of  the  most  obstinate 
researches ;  and  in  this  respect  it  may  be  noted 


The  Comidie  Humaine.  57 

that  the  majority  of  his  books  are  the  result  of 
patient  labor  and  prolonged  meditations. 

"  Ursule  Mirouet,"  one  of  his  most  chaste 
conceptions,  is  the  fruit  of  exhaustive  experi- 
ments in  clairvoyance.  "  Seraphita  "  was  born 
of  the  suggestions  of  a  hundred  works  of  the 
mystics.  "  C^sar  Birotteau  "  is  a  text-book  on 
bankruptcy. 

The  production  of  "  Gambara  "  and  "  Mas- 
simillia  Doni "  necessitated  not  only  a  thorough 
musical  schooling,  but  vast  operatic  knowledge, 
and  before  attacking  his  subject  Balzac  en- 
gaged a  violinist  to  saturate  him  with  Rossini. 
"  La  Grande  Breteche  "  is  the  essence  of  the 
Causes  Cel^bres,  and  dowered  French  litera- 
ture with  a  new  shudder.  The  "  Contrat  de 
Mariage  "  is  a  code  of  Xegdil  finesse. 

"Maitre  Corndius,"  which  with  the  excep- 
tion of  "  Catherine  de  Medicis  "  contains  the 
only  ghosts  that  he  has  evoked  from  the  night 
of  the  past,  is  an  attempt  to  rehabilitate  Louis 
XL,  and  to  refute  the  historical  portion  of 
"  Quentin  Durward." 

"  Les  Deux  Proscrits  "  was  the  result  of  pro- 
longed meditations  on  the  works  of  Dante, 
while  "  La  Dernifere  Incarnation  de  Vautrin  " 
is  a  dictionary  of  prison  slang. 

But  the  works  for  which  he  cared  the  most 
and  on  which  he  expended  the  greatest  amount 
of  labor  were  "  Louis  Lambert "  and  "  Le  Md- 
decin  de  Campagne." 


5$  Balzac. 

In  "  Louis  Lambert,"  he  asks  whether  elec- 
tricity is  not  the  basis  of  the  particular  fluid 
from  which  ideas  are  derived,  and  proceeds 
thereupon  to  consider  thought  as  a  complete 
system  similar  to  that  of  vegetation  ;  and  after 
analyzing  the  birth,  life,  or  death  of  certain 
thoughts,^  he  expresses  the  opinion  that  ideas 
and  sentiments  are  endowed  with  physical 
properties,  such  as  weight  and  movement ;  and 
after  fortifying  it  with  striking  examples  of 
expectation,  fear,  anger,  and  determination,  he 
concludes  that  facts  do  not  exist,  that  ideas 
alone  endure,  and  that  volition  is  a  material 
force,  similar  to  that  of  steam. 

In  spite  of  the  amount  of  labor  which  a  work 
of  this  kind  necessitated,  a  still  greater  amount 
was  expended  on  "  Le  Medecin  de  Campagne," 
of  which  every  line  and  every  phrase  was 
weighed,  rewritten,  and  corrected  again  and 
again.  In  this  work  he  attempted  to  grasp  the 
simple  beauty  of  the  Scriptures,  to  surpass  the 
"  Vicar  of  Wakefield,"  and  to  put  the  "  Imita- 
tion of  Christ  "  into  action  ;  but  its  pages  were 
written  above  the  level  of  the  ordinary  reader, 
and  in  spite  of  its  profundity  of  thought  it  is 
perhaps  the  least  known  of  all  his  writings. 

The  romance,  however,  which  gained  for  him 
the  greatest  favor  in  the  boudoirs  of  Europe 
was  the  "  Memoires  de  Deux  Jeunes  Mariees," 
^  See  also  La  Peau  du  Chagrin. 


The  Com^die  Humaine.  59 

which  is  one  of  the  few  works  in  which  happy 
and  satisfied  love  has  been  successfully  de- 
picted. In  Rousseau  there  was  too  much  rhet- 
oric, in  Richardson  too  much  pretension  ;  Scott 
was  hampered  by  English  prudery,  and  is  con- 
sequently chill  as  an  icicle  ;  the  poets  as  a  rule 
were  too  extravagant  and  too  much  engrossed 
in  metaphors ;  and  it  remained  to  Balzac  to 
describe  the  insensate  fears  and  ^inreasoning 
jealousies  of  that  passion  of  which  many  speak, 
but  few  have  known. 

The  masterful  handling  of  these  widely  con- 
trasting subjects  shows  not  only  an  equipment 
of  profound  penetration  and  power  of  observa- 
tion, but  also  an  erudition  at  once  varied  and 
luminous.  His  works  are  those  of  an  anato- 
mist from  whom  nothing  escaped,  a  psychol- 
ogist from  whom  nothing  was  hidden,  and  a 
realist  who  described  all.  Joined  thereto  was 
the  gift  of  adjective  :  in  this  he  is  the  Ben- 
venuto  Cellini  of  literature,  for  his  words  seem 
less  like  symbols  of  speech  than  awakeners  of 
trains  of  thought. 

His  originality  is  entirely  undisputed.  It 
would  not  be  a  difficult  task  to  point  out  the 
buried  hands  which  modeled  the  grandiose  fig- 
ure of  Hugo,  and  the  tombs  ransacked  by 
Shakespeare  are  still  open  to  inspection ;  but 
Balzac  was  totally  without  literary  ancestry. 
The  influence  of  Scott  and  Hoffmann,  at  that 


6o  Balzac. 

time  enormous,  possibly  presided  at  the  con- 
ception of  some  of  his  earUer  works,  and 
brought  to  them  strength  from  the  massiveness 
of  the  one  and  coloring  from  the  unexpected- 
ness of  the  other ;  they  were  perhaps  the  tran- 
sitory models  of  a  necessary  apprenticeship,  in 
which  the  masters  were  soon  to  be  neglected 
and  surpassed.  Aside  from  this  early  school- 
ing, Balzac  is  indebted  to  no  one,  —  neither  to 
the  Greeks  nor  to  the  Romans,  to  the  Italian 
school,  to  the  Trouv^res  of  feudal  France  nor 
to  the  Minnesingers  of  the  Middle  Ages  ;  and 
even  where  Hoffmann  is  not,  he  at  least  is  en- 
tirely modern  and  absolutely  original;  for  the 
fantastic  effects  of  the  former  were  drawn  from 
Micromegas,  who  had  already  extracted  them 
from  Cyrano  de  Bergerac, — a  well  into  which, 
it  may  be  noted,  Voltaire  himself  has  dipped ; 
and  in  this  respect,  that  it  may  not  be  objected 
that  the  "  Contes  Drolatiques  "  are  but  a  con- 
tinuation of  Rabelais,  Beroalde  de  Verville,  and 
the  Reine  de  Navarre,  it  is  well  to  point  out 
that  where  but  the  female  was  seen  by  these 
writers  Balzac  discovered  the  woman,  a  differ- 
ence surely  as  great  as  between  the  bottle  and 
the  wine. 

And  here  perhaps  a  word  may  be  said  in  re- 
gard to  the  present  Realistic  school,  of  which 
he  was  the  founder,  and  whose  influence  is 
daily  becoming  more  noticeable  and  apparent. 


The  Comidie  Humaine.  6 1 

The  i^vcvi  present  Realistic  school  is  used  ad- 
visedly ;  for  though  it  was  only  about  twenty-five 
or  thirty  years  ago  that  realism  began  to  be 
seriously  considered,  it  is  erroneous  to  suppose 
that  it  is  of  purely  modern  origin.  For  realism 
as  expressed  in  literature  is  but  the  sentiment 
of  the  obvious  and  the  true  \  and  in  the  days 
when  art  was  a  splendid  novelty,  the  first  poets, 
as  also  the  first  painters,  sought  their  inspira- 
tions directly  from  the  primal  source  of  all  re- 
ality, —  that  is,  from  Nature  herself. 

Nature,  therefore,  is  the  mother  of  realism, 
artistically  considered,  and  Homer  was  its  first 
exponent ;  for  not  only  was  the  actuality  of  his 
subject  never  neglected  for  the  purely  ideal,  but 
it  was  also  a  first  experience. 

But  the  impressions  produced  by  the  real  un- 
dergo in  the  mere  transcription  certain  modifi- 
cations, which  are  greater  or  less  according  to 
the  organization  of  the  exponent ;  and  while 
some  of  the  subject's  delicate  aroma  invaria- 
bly escapes  in  its  passage,  however  transitory, 
from  brain  to  canvas,  the  proper  conservation 
of  what  remains  constitutes  the  work  of  art 
on  whose  opulence  succeeding  generations  are 
nourished,  and  from  which,  in  turn,  other  im- 
pressions are  derived  ;  and  where  the  original 
exponent  has  artistically  transcribed  that  which 
he  has  seen  and  felt,  his  followers  express  not 
that  which   reality  suggests  to  them,  but  that 


62  Balzac. 

which  Nature  suggested  to  him,  and  the  original 
types  of  the  one  become  the  modified  models 
of  the  others,  until  in  descending  the  centuries 
reality  becomes  unrecognizable,  and  art  and 
literature  through  constant  copying  of  copies 
become  at  last  enervated  and  meaningless. 

When,  therefore,  the  poetry  of  the  Greeks 
was  becoming  entangled  in  the  subtleties  of  ver- 
sification, it  received  a  fresh  and  vigorous  im- 
pulsion from  Theocritus,  who,  disregarding  the 
set  rules  of  his  contemporaries,  and  returning  to 
the  direct  observation  of  reality,  expressed  not 
only  the  ideal,  as  poetry  should,  but  also  Nature 
in  her  most  humble  and  familiar  details,  and 
represented  his  Shepherdess  as  beautiful  but 
unkempt,  the  odor  of  cattle  about  her,  and  with 
her  hands  hardened  by  contact  with  the  horns 
of  the  steers.  Pictures  of  the  obvious  and  the 
true  should  represent,  therefore,  not  only  the 
beautiful  but  the  repulsive,  not  only  that  which 
is  unpleasant  but  that  which  is  agreeable ;  and 
the  Shepherdess  of  Theocritus,  in  her  unkempt 
beauty,  would  be  as  untrue  to  nature  had  she 
not  the  odor  of  the  cattle  about  her  as  are  the 
patched  and  powdered  bergeres  with  which  Wat- 
teau  charmed  the  Pompadour. 

Nature  loves  and  abounds  in  contrasts,  as 
witness  the  toad  squatting  beneath  the  rose 
bush ;  and  while  either  may  afford  a  separate 
study,  yet  the  union  of  the  two  is  necessary  in 
a  faithful  picture  of  what  actually  exists. 


TJie  Comidie  Humaine.  63 

When,  therefore,  Villon  broke  away  from  the 
stilted  and  flowery  madrigals  of  the  school  of 
Charles  d 'Orleans,  and  sought  anew  for  the 
simplicity  of  Nature,  he  was  but  continuing 
Theocritus  and  paving  the  way  for  Diderot  and 
Retif  de  la  Breton ne.  The  current  of  opinion, 
however,  was  adverse  to  these  writers,  and  it 
was  not  until  the  early  part  of  the  present  cen- 
tury, when  the  Romantic  school,  with  its  van- 
guards led  by  Madame  de  Stael  and  Chateau- 
briand and  with  Victor  Hugo  for  its  subsequent 
chief,  had  succeeded  after  a  terrible  struggle  in 
freeing  themselves  from  the  established  rules 
and  conventional  phrasing  of  the  classicists  and 
had  raised  the  standard  of  liberty  in  art,  that 
many  of  the  prejudices  which  the  Academicians 
had  engendered  disappeared,  and  the  ground, 
swept  clean  and  clear,  was  prepared  for  the  ad- 
vent of  a  new  teacher. 

It  was  at  this  propitious  moment  that  Balzac, 
already  famous  through  his  "  Physiologic  du  Ma- 
nage," presented  his  credentials  in  the  "  Peau 
du  Chagrin,"  and  with  an  audacity  unparalleled 
in  literature  represented  his  hero  as  troubled  not 
only  about  the  state  of  his  mistress'  affections, 
but  also  as  to  whether  he  would  have  money 
enough  to  pay  her  fare  in  a  cab. 

The  stupefaction  and  indignation  of  the  pur- 
ists at  this  unheard-of  infraction  of  their  for- 
mal style  were  indescribable,  but  the  Romantic 


64  Balzac. 

school  upheld  the  innovation,  and  the  new  gen- 
eration applauded  the  realistic  portrayal  of  the 
penniless  student  who  went  to  an  evening  en- 
tertainment on  the  points  of  his  shoes,  while 
dreading  a  splash  of  mud  more  than  a  shot 
from  a  pistol. 

In  this  respect,  therefore,  the  "Peau  du 
Chagrin  "  marked  the  first  return  in  the  nine- 
teenth century  to  the  real  and  to  the  true; 
it  gave  a  fresh  impulse  to  an  expiring  litera- 
ture, and  constituted  the  corner-stone  of  the 
Realistic  school,  which  has  found  such  able 
exponents  not  only  in  the  De  Goncourts  and 
Flaubert,  but  in  Dickens,  Thackeray,  Tourgd- 
nieff,  and  a  host  of  lesser  lights. 

But  Balzac's  incontestable  superiority  over 
other  writers  consists  in  his  descriptions  of  the 
habits  and  customs  of  every-day  life,  and  in  his 
perception  and  rendition  of  the  delicate  and 
innumerable  shadings  which  accompany  their 
thousand  complications,  in  the  scenes  of  pri- 
vate life  which  he  depicted,  in  the  little  mys- 
terious dramas  which  take  place  every  day  in 
every  social  sphere,  and  especially  in  his  por- 
traits. The  exactitude  of  the  transcription,  the 
delicacy  of  the  shading,  and  the  profusion  and 
realism  of  detail  are  such  that  it  would  almost 
seem  as  though  reality  itself  had  been  trans- 
ported and  placed  before  the  eyes  of  the  reader. 

The  third  and  last  number  of  the  "  Revue 


The  Comidie  Humaine.  65 

Parisienne  "  contains  a  criticism  of  Balzac's  on 
the  "  Chartreuse  de  Parme,"  in  which,  in  al- 
luding to  the  author,  he  says,  "  Stendhal  is  one 
of  the  most  remarkable  writers  of  the  day,  but 
in  his  work  form  is  neglected ;  he  writes  as  a 
bird  sings." 

Form,  the  absence  of  which  he  noticed  in 
Stendhal,  was  to  him  a  source  of  continued  care 
and  preoccupation,  and  he  would  often  spend 
an  hour  in  burnishing  a  single  sentence.  With 
all  his  facility  of  conception,  execution  was  ex- 
ceedingly laborious,  and  his  admiration  of  Gau- 
tier's  ability  to  dash  off  without  an  erasure  a 
warm-colored  and  impeccable  article,  while  un- 
bounded, was  not  unmixed  with  a  certain  con- 
viction that  the  work  would  be  improved  by  a 
thorough  revision. 

As  has  been  seen,  Balzac  spent  almost  ten 
years  in  forming  his  hand  and  chastening  his 
style,  and  the  courage  which  he  then  mani- 
fested was  equaled  only  by  the  patience  with 
which  he  sought  to  improve  the  coloring  of  his 
afterwork.  As  a  grammarian  he  is  unsurpassed, 
and  the  faults  which  are  noticeable  in  many 
of  his  works  are  for  the  most  part  purely 
clerical,  and  due  to  his  mania  for  writing  his 
books  on  proof-sheets  instead  of  in  manuscript. 
As  an  innovator  he  was  of  course  attacked,  — 
all  innovators  are,  —  and  Sainte-Beuve,  whose 
manner  of  writing  Balzac  had  characterized  as 
5 


66  Balzac. 

macaroni,  continually  ridiculed  his  style  and 
form  of  expression.  In  this  respect,  however, 
it  should  be  remembered  that  at  the  time  of 
Balzac's  advent  into  literature  the  French  lan- 
guage had  been  passed  through  a  strainer  so 
fine  that  no  terms  remained  to  express  any- 
thing beyond  the  purely  conventional ;  and 
Balzac,  who  was  thoroughly  impressed  with  Ar- 
istotle's idea  that  the  inexpressible  does  not 
exist,  was  almost  obliged  to  create  a  language 
of  his  own ;  and  in  his  endeavor  to  express 
himself  with  realistic  clearness  he  seized  upon 
every  suggestive  technicality  which  he  encoun- 
tered in  science,  in  the  green  room,  the  alcoves 
of  the  hospital,  or  the  by-ways  of  Paris,  and 
built  a  vocabulary  from  all  that  was  most  ex- 
pressive in  the  different  strata  of  existence.  It 
was  he  who  invented  "  chic  "  and  many  other 
terms  of  an  equally  felicitous  nature. 

"  As  for  neologisms,  as  the  critics  call  them," 
he  said,  "who,  I  would  like  to  know,  has  a 
right  to  give  alms  to  a  language,  unless  it  be 
its  writers  ?  Of  course  I  create  words,  but  my 
parvenus  will  become  nobles  in  time." 

But  through  discipline  and  constant  atten- 
tion Balzac's  style  assumed  at  last  the  un- 
dulatory  rhythm  of  the  Romantic  school,  and 
became  not  only  picturesque,  mathematical, 
and  peculiarly  incisive,  but  the  model  of  many 
of  the  prominent  writers  of  to-day. 


The  ComMie  Humaine.  67 

The  attacks  of  the  critics  were  not  confined, 
however,  to  his  style  and  form  of  expression  ; 
charges  of  personal  as  well  as  literary  immoral- 
ity were  brought  against  him,  and  it  is  curious 
to  note  that  while  Venice  reveled  through  an 
entire  carnival  in  a  masquerade  of  his  charac- 
ters his  books  were  prohibited  in  Rome  and 
Madrid. 

Personally  considered,  Balzac  was  much  more 
of  a  Benedictine  than  a  disciple  of  Rabelais ; 
even  his  student  days  were  those  of  an  ancho- 
rite, and  purity  of  life  was  to  him  not  only  a 
refinement,  but  a  basis  indispensable  to  ele- 
vation of  thought,  and  an  essential  in  the  pro- 
duction of  any  work  of  enduring  value.  Dis- 
order he  regarded  as  fatal  to  talent,  and  Gau- 
tier  says  that  he  preached  what  he  practiced, 
and  recommended  to  him  that  he  should  visit 
his  Dulcinea  but  once  a  year,  and  then  only 
for  half  an  hour.  "  Write  to  her,  if  you  wish 
to,"  he  said;  "it  forms  the  style."  In  his 
books  he  has,  it  is  true,  agreeably  painted  the 
seductions  of  vice,  but  its  contagious  and  de- 
structive effects  are  rigorously  exposed ;  and 
through  all  the  struggles  of  his  characters  pro- 
bity, purity,  and  self-denial  are  alone  triumph- 
ant. In  what,  then,  does  his  immorality  consist  ? 
In  his  vast  conception,  it  was  necessary,  he  ex- 
plained,* here  to  signalize  an  abuse  and  here 

1  Preface  to  the  Comidie  Humaine. 


68  Balzac. 

to  point  out  an  evil ;  but  every  writer  who  has 
an  aim  and  who  breaks  a  fresh  lance  in  the 
domain  of  thought  is  invariably  considered  im- 
moral. Socrates  was  immoral ;  Christ  was  im- 
moral :  both  were  persecuted  by  the  people 
whom  they  reformed. 

In  describing  in  the  "  Comedie  Humaine  " 
all  the  elements  of  society,  in  grasping  it  in  the 
immensity  of  its  agitations,  it  was  inevitable 
that  one  part  should  expose  more  wickedness 
than  virtue,  that  one  part  of  the  fresco  repre- 
sented a  culpable  group  :  hence  the  critic  has 
brought  his  charge  of  immorality  without  ob- 
serving the  morality  of  other  parts  destined  to 
form  a  perfect  contrast.  And  in  this  partic- 
ular we  must  observe  that  the  most  consci- 
entious moralists  are  agreed  that  society  is 
incapable  of  producing  as  many  good  as  evil 
actions,  yet  in  the  "  Comedie  Humaine  "  the 
virtuous  characters  exceed  in  number  those  of 
a  reprehensible  disposition. 

Blamable  actions,  faults,  crimes,  from  the 
slightest  to  the  most  grave,  find  therein  an  in- 
variable punishment,  human  or  divine,  evident 
or  secret ;  and  while  it  would  be  impossible  to 
clothe  two  or  three  thousand  characters  in 
white  and  orange  blossoms,  it  must  be  evident 
even  to  the  most  careless  observer  that  the 
Marneffes,  male  and  female,  the  Hulots,  Bri- 
deaus  e  tutti  guanti,  are  not  imagined,  —  they 
are  simply  deseribed. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  BUSKIN  AND  THE  SOCK. 
"  Le  g^nie,  c'est  la  patience."  —  Buffon. 

In  the  story  of  "  Albert  Savarus "  Balzac 
drew  a  picture  of  the  hero  which,  with  slight 
modifications,  might  have  served  as  his  own. 

He  was  tall  and  somewhat  stout.  His  hands 
were  those  of  a  prelate,  and  his  head  was  that 
of  a  Nero.  His  hair  was  black  and  dense,  and 
his  forehead,  furrowed  by  sabre-cuts  of  thought, 
was  high  and  massive.  His  complexion  was 
of  an  olive  hue ;  his  nose  was  prominent  and 
slightly  arched ;  his  mouth  was  sympathetic, 
and  his  chin  firm.  But  his  most  remarkable 
characteristic  was  the  expression  of  his  gold- 
brown  eyes,  which,  eloquent  with  interrogations 
and  replies,  seemed,  instead  of  receiving  light 
from  without,  to  project  jets  of  interior  flame. 

His  many  vicissitudes  had  endowed  him  with 
an  air  of  such  calm  tranquillity  as  might  have 
disconcerted  a  thunderbolt ;  while  his  voice,  at 
once  penetrating  and  soft,  had  the  charm  at- 
tributed to  Talma's. 

In  conversation  persuasive  and  magnetic,  he 


70  Balzac. 

held  his  auditors  breathless  in  a  torrent  of 
words  and  gesture.  He  convinced  almost  at 
will,  and  his  imagination,  once  unbridled,  was 
sufficient  to  cause  a  vertigo.  "  He  frightens 
me,"  said  G6rard  de  Nerval ;  "  he  is  enough  to 
drive  one  crazy." 

"  He  possessed,"  Gautier  said,  "  a  swing,  an 
eloquence,  and  a  brio  which  were  perfectly  irre- 
sistible. Gliding  from  one  subject  to  another, 
he  would  pass  from  an  anecdote  to  a  philosoph- 
ical reflection,  from  an  observation  to  a  de- 
scription. As  he  spoke,  his  face  flushed,  his 
eyes  became  peculiarly  luminous,  his  voice  as- 
sumed different  inflections,  while  at  times  he 
would  burst  out  laughing,  amused  by  the  comic 
apparitions  which  he  saw  before  describing, 
and  announced,  in  this  way,  by  a  sort  of  fan- 
fare, the  entrance  of  his  caricatures  and  witti- 
cisms. The  misfortunes  of  a  precarious  exist- 
ence, the  annoyances  of  debt,  fatigue,  excessive 
work,  even  illness,  were  unable  to  change  this 
striking  characteristic  of  continual  and  Rabe- 
laisian joviality." 

Friends,  enemies,  editors,  strangers,  money- 
lenders, and  usurers,  all  with  whom  he  came 
in  contact,  were  fascinated  and  coerced  by  the 
extraordinary  magnetism  which  he  exerted 
without  effort,  and  the  most  vigorous  intellects 
were  bewildered  by  his  projects  of  fortune  and 
dreams  of  glory. 


The  Buskin  and  the  Sock.  71 

Attracted  by  the  mine  of  wealth  which  the 
theatre  opens  to  the  popular  playwright;  and 
burdened  with  a  real  or  imaginary  weight  of 
debt,  from  which  one  or  two  dramas,  if  favor- 
ably received,  would  free  him  entirely ;  and  de- 
sirous, moreover,  of  experiencing  the  delirious 
intoxication  which  the  plaudits  of  the  gallery 
bring  to  the  successful  dramatist,  Balzac's  in- 
flammable imagination  became  a  veritable  whirl- 
wind of  plots  and  epigrams  whenever  a  new 
play  was  well  received. 

But  for  the  playwright,  as  for  the  mechanic, 
an  apprenticeship  is  obligatory,  and,  though 
Balzac's  novels  contained  action  and  analysis, 
drama  and  observation,  it  was  not,  as  we  have 
seen,  until  after  a  long  and  laborious  prepara- 
tion that  he  was  enabled  to  attract  the  attention 
of  the  public ;  and  it  is  evident  that  the  heights 
which  he  then  scaled  were  so  fatiguing  and 
time-consuming  that  his  life,  wearied  by  the 
struggle,  was  not  of  sufficient  duration  to  per- 
mit his  winning  equal  triumphs  on  the  stage. 

From  his  early  schooldays,  however,  in  which, 
it  will  be  remembered,  he  commenced  a  tragedy 
on  the  Incas,  which  was  afterwards  followed  by 
a  drama  in  blank  verse  entitled  "  Cromwell," 
the  stage  had  possessed  an  irresistible  attrac- 
tion for  him  ;  and  if  therein  he  was  not  at  first 
successful,  it  was  perhaps  from  the  very  cause 
which  brought  to  him  his  original  popularity, 


72  Balzac. 

and  the  superabundance  of  his  ideas,  paradox- 
ical as  it  at  first  appears,  was  undoubtedly  his 
greatest  stumbling-block. 

To  imagine  a  plot  was  nothing,  the  scenes 
were  but  details,  and  the  outline  of  a  melo- 
drama was  to  him  the  work  of  as  little  labor  as 
would  be  required  in  the  conception  of  a  pleas- 
ing menu  ;  but  when  the  general  plan  was 
sketched,  each  scene  would  suggest  a  dozen 
others,  and  the  Coliseum  of  Vespasian  would 
not  have  been  large  enough  to  present  the  si- 
multaneous action  which  the  play,  at  once  inter- 
minable and  impossible,  would  have  demanded. 

Another  reason  for  his  lack  of  immediate 
success  was  the  jealousy  of  his  colleagues  and 
the  hatred  of  the  critics ;  and  as  at  that  time 
the  existence  of  a  play  depended  entirely  upon 
the  manner  in  which  the  first  representation 
was  received,  it  was  not  very  difiicult  to  create 
a  cabal  against  this  usurper,  who,  not  content 
with  his  legitimate  celebrity,  seemed,  at  the 
bare  mention  of  a  play,  to  meditate  a  universal 
literary  monarchy,  in  which  he  would  reign  su- 
preme ;  and  while  the  conquest  of  both  spheres 
has  been  effected  by  Hugo,  Voltaire,  and  others 
of  like  ilk,  yet  these  authors  were  careful  to 
fortify  their  progress  with  a  book  in  one  hand 
and  a  play  in  the  other,  whereas  it  was  not 
until  Balzac  had  reached  his  apogee  that  he 
began  a  serious  attack  on  the  stage. 


The  Buskin  and  the  Sock.  73 

It  was  in  the  year  1840  that  Balzac  submitted 
"  Vautrin,"  his  first  drama,  to  the  director  of  the 
Porte-St.-Martin.  The  play  was  at  once  ac- 
cepted ;  for  the  author's  reputation  was  not 
only  gigantic,  but  the  Porte-St.-Marrin  had  al- 
most foundered  in  successive  tempests,  and  to 
the  director,  who  was  as  penniless  as  he  was 
appreciative,  the  offer  was  little  less  than  a 
godsend.  An  agreement  was  signed  forthwith, 
and  Balzac  abandoned  Les  Jardies  for  more 
convenient  quarters,  where  he  could  attend  to 
the  rehearsals  and  remodel  the  scenes  on  the 
stage  itself,  which,  it  may  be  added,  he  contin- 
ued to  do  up  to  the  very  last  moment. 

During  these  preparations,  the  boulevards 
•were  agog  with  excitement.  The  actors  and 
the  director,  accompanied  by  Balzac's  friends, 
wandered  daily  from  the  Boulevard  Bonne  Nou- 
velle  to  Tontoni's  and  the  Cafd  Riche,  excit- 
ing the  curiosity  of  th&  flaneurs  by  their  reti- 
cence or  murmured  confidences  ;  and  Balzac's 
ingress  and  egress  from  the  theatre  were,  it  is 
said,  watched  and  waited  for  by  curious  crowds. 

Never  in  the  history  of  the  drama  had  a  first 
representation  been  so  impatiently  awaited ; 
and  Balzac,  foreseeing  the  immense  sale  which 
the  seats  would  have,  bought  up  the  entire 
house,  and  then,  while  endeavoring  that  the 
tickets  should  circulate  only  among  his  friends 
and  their  acquaintances,  sold  the  better  part  of 
it  over  again  at  a  large  advance 


74  Balzac. 

"  My  dear  friend,"  he  wrote  to  Dablin,  "  if 
among  your  acquaintances  there  are  any  who 
wish  to  assist  at  the  first  representation  of 
*  Vautrin,'  let  me  know  who  they  are,  as  I  pre- 
fer to  let  the  boxes  to  those  whom  I  know 
about,  rather  than  to  those  who  are  unknown 
to  me.  I  particularly  wish  to  have  handsome 
women  present.  The  demand  for  boxes  is 
greater  than  the  supply.  The  journalists  are 
to  be  sacrificed." 

To  Gozlan  he  wrote,  — 

••  I  have  sent  you  a  ticket  for  the  stalls.  The 
rehearsals  have  almost  killed  me.  You  will 
witness  a  memorable  failure.  I  have  been 
wrong,  I  think,  to  summon  the  public. 

"  Morituri  te  salutant,  Caesar ! " 

Unfortunately,  the  interval  between  the  sale 
of  the  seats  and  the  first  representation  was 
sufficiently  great  to  permit  of  two  thirds  of  the 
tickets  falling  into  the  hands  of  those  who 
were  unknown  or  hostile  to  Balzac  ;  and  conse- 
quently, when  the  great  day  arrived,  the  critics 
sharpened  their  knives,  and  in  place  of  the 
indulgent  friends  and  handsome  women  whom 
Balzac  had  expected  to  welcome  his  play  the 
theatre  was  crowded  with  malevolent  faces. 

The  title-role  was  taken  by  Fre'deric  Le- 
maitre,  and  while  the  first  three  acts  were  re- 
ceived without  any  demonstrations,  either  of 
approval  or  disapprobation,  over  the  fourth 


The  Buskin  and  the  Sock.  75 

there  burst  a  tempest  which,  since  the  birth- 
night  of  "  Hernani,"  was  unequaled  in  the  an- 
nals of  the  stage ;  for  Lemaitre,  reappearing  in 
the  costume  of  a  Mexican  general,  seemed  — 
whether  by  accident  or  design,  it  has  never 
been  clearly  understood  —  to  present  an  insult- 
ing resemblance  to  Louis  Philippe,  whose  eld- 
est son  happened  to  be  in  one  of  the  most 
conspicuous  boxes. 

The  entire  house,  from  pit  to  gallery,  re- 
echoed with  hisses  and  catcalls.  Threats  and 
even  blows  were  exchanged,  for  here  and  there, 
in  spite  of  the  general  indignation,  a  few  still 
remained  faithful  to  Balzac. 

Through  Lemaitre's  eccentricity,  the  battle 
was  lost  and  the  drama  killed.  Further  repre- 
sentations were  prohibited  by  the  government ; 
and  though,  a  few  days  later,  M.  de  Remusat 
called  upon  Balzac,  and  offered  in  the  name  of 
the  state  an  indemnity  for  the  pecuniary  loss 
which  he  had  sustained^  it  was  haughtily  re- 
fused. "  If  my  play  was  justly  prohibited, 
there  is,"  he  said,  "  no  reason  why  I  should  be 
indemnified ;  if  it  be  otherwise,  I  can  accept 
nothing,  unless  an  indemnity  be  also  made  to 
the  manager  and  actors  of  the  Porte-St.-Mar- 
tin." 

Two  years  after  the  failure  of  "  Vautrin,"  and 
entirely  unaffected  by  its  sudden  collapse,  Bal- 
zac knocked  at  the  door  of  the  Oddon,  which 


j6  Balzac. 

was  at  that  time  under  the  management  of  Li- 
reux.  By  this  gentleman  Balzac  was  received 
with  the  greatest  cordiality  ;  for  while  his  first 
play  had  fallen  flat,  yet  it  had  fallen  with  such 
a  crash  that,  in  the  lapse  of  time,  it  was  dif- 
ficult to  distinguish  its  failure  from  success. 
Moreover,  the  Odeon  was  bankrupt,  and  as 
Balzac,  with  his  customary  enthusiasm,  offered 
nothing  less  than  a  Golconda  in  his  manuscript, 
he  was  feted,  caressed,  and  altogether  received 
with  open  arms. 

From  the  office  to  the  green  room,  from  the 
door-keeper  to  the  scene-shifters,  smiles,  com- 
pliments, and  welcomes  were  showered  upon 
him,  and  he  was  unanimously  requested  to 
read  his  play  at  once.  As  soon,  therefore,  as 
the  actors  were  assembled  and  silence  ob- 
tained, Balzac  began  to  read  "  Les  Ressources 
de  Quinola."  At  first  thick  and  embarrassed, 
his  voice  gradually  grew  clearer,  and  expressed 
the  most  fugitive  undulations  of  the  dialogue. 
His  audience  laughed  and  wept  by  turns,  and 
Balzac  laughed  and  wept  with  them ;  the  en- 
tire troop  was  fascinated,  and  applauded  as 
only  actors  can.  Suddenly,  however,  at  the  end 
of  the  fourth  act,  Balzac  stopped  short,  and 
explained  in  the  simplest  and  most  unaffected 
manner  that,  as  he  had  not  yet  written  the 
fifth,  he  would  be  obliged  to  recite  it  to  them. 

The  stupor  and  surprise  of  his  audience  can 


The  Buskin  and  the  Sock.  77 

be  more  readily  imagined  than  described :  for 
the  fifth  act  of  "  Quinola  "  is  the  unraveling  of 
all  the  tangled  threads,  the  union  of  all  the 
joints  ;  it  is  the  climax  and  logical  termination 
of  all  that  has  gone  before ;  and  Balzac,  as  he 
calmly  rolled  up  his  manuscript  and  tied  it 
with  a  bit  of  string,  easily,  fluently,  and  unhes- 
itatingly continued  the  drama  through  the  six 
final  scenes,  and  without  a  break,  without  a 
pause,  through  a  torrent  of  varied  intonations, 
led  his  listeners  by  a  magnificent  tour  de  force 
to  the  very  fall  of  the  curtain. 

Lireux  was  bewildered  and  entranced.  "The 
rehearsals  shall  commence  to-morrow,"  he  said. 
"  But  to  what  address,  M.  de  Balzac,  shall  I 
send  the  announcements  ?  " 

"  It  is  unnecessary  to  send  any,"  Balzac  re- 
plied.   "  I  can  come  without  them." 

"  Ah,  no,  that  is  impossible.  There  will  be  a 
rehearsal  one  day,  and  none  the  next ;  and  I 
never  know  until  the  morning  at  what  hour  a 
rehearsal  is  to  take  place.  What  is  your  ad- 
dress ? " 

But  Balzac  had  not  the  least  intention  of 
telling  where  he  lived,  and  either  because  he 
was  playing  hide-and-go-seek  with  his  creditors, 
or  else  was  at  that  time  possessed  of  one  of  the 
inexplicable  manias  which  caused  him  at  times 
to  keep  his  habitat  a  secret  even  from  his  most 
intimate  friends,  he  refused  flatly  to  impart  the 
wished-for  information. 


78  Balzac. 

*'  I  do  not  see  what  we  can  do,"  Lireux 
munnured  helplessly,  "  unless  we  use  a  carrier 
pigeon." 

"  I  do,"  replied  Balzac,  ever  fertile  in  expe- 
dients. "  Listen  to  me.  Send  a  messenger  up 
the  Champs-^filysees  with  the  notice  every  morn- 
ing at  nine  o'clock.  When  he  reaches  the  Arc 
de  rfitoile,  let  him  turn  to  the  left,  and  he  will 
see  a  man  beneath  the  twentieth  tree,  who  will 
pretend  to  be  looking  up  in  the  branches  for  a 
sparrow." 

"  A  sparrow  ? " 

"  A  sparrow  or  any  other  bird." 

"  My  pigeon,  perhaps." 

"  Let  me  continue.  Your  messenger  will  ap- 
proach my  sentinel,  and  will  say  to  him,  'I 
have  it.'  Thereupon  my  sentinel  will  reply, 
'  Since  you  have  it,  what  are  you  waiting  for  ? ' 
Then  your  messenger  will  hand  the  notice  to 
him,  and  immediately  go  away,  without  once 
looking  behind  him.    I  will  attend  to  the  rest." 

Lireux  saw  no  objection  to  this  fantastic 
whim,  and  contented  himself  by  expressing  the 
hope  that  if  the  twentieth  tree  should  be  de- 
stroyed by  lightning  M.  de  Balzac  would  see 
no  insuperable  objection  to  posting  his  sentinel 
at  the  twenty-first. 

"  No,"  Balzac  answered,  "  but  I  should  pre- 
fer the  nineteenth  ;  the  number  is  more  quaint." 

This    plan    amicably   arranged,    the    actors 


The  Buskin  and  the  Sock.  79 

agreed  upon,  and  the  date  of  the  first  represen- 
tation settled,  Balzac  proceeded  to  talk  finance. 

"  Beside  the  customary  royalty,  I  wish  the 
entire  house  for  the  first  three  nights." 

"  But  what  shall  I  get  ? "  Lireux  timidly  in- 
quired. 

"  Half  the  profits,  which  will  be  incalculable." 

Lireux  reflected  for  a  moment.  "Very 
good,"  he  said ;  "  I  accept." 

From  the  first  rehearsal  Balzac  recommenced 
with  "  Quinola  "  the  treatment  to  which  "  Vau- 
trin  "  had  been  subjected.  Sometimes  a  phrase 
was  altered,  sometimes  a  scene,  while  at  oth- 
ers an  entire  act  was  remodeled.  That  which 
pleased  him  one  day  displeased  him  the  next, 
and  each  rehearsal  brought  fresh  corrections 
and  alterations,  until  the  original  manuscript 
was  entirely  obliterated  with  erasures  and  new 
ideas. 

Besides  undergoing  the  mental  and  physical 
labor  attendant  on  these  rehearsals,  Balzac  un- 
dertook the  entire  charge  of  the  sale  of  the 
seats,  or  rather  the  entire  charge  of  refusing 
seats  to  all  comers ;  for  the  box  ofiice  was 
opened  merely  for  form's  sake,  and  tickets  were 
to  be  had  only  of  Balzac  in  person.  To  obtain 
one  was  not  so  much  a  question  of  money  as 
of  position  and  influence.  The  orchestra  stalls 
he  reserved  for  the  nobility,  the  avant-scbnes 
for  the  court  circle ;  the  boxes  in  the  first  gal- 


8o  Balzac. 

lery  were  for  the  ambassadors  and  plenipoten- 
tiaries ;  the  second  gallery  was  for  the  states- 
men, the  third  for  the  moneyed  aristocracy,  the 
fourth  for  the  select  bourgeoisie.  "  As  for  the 
critics,"  he  said,  "they  can  buy  their  seats,  if 
there  are  any  left,  and  there  will  be  none." 

As  a  rule,  therefore,  when  any  one  asked  for 
a  box,  Balzac  would  reply,  "  Too  late  :  last 
one  just  sold  to  the  Princesse  de  Machin  and 
the  Grande  Duchesse  de  Chose."  During  the 
first  few  days  of  the  sale,  seats  were  in  conse- 
quence sold  at  extraordinary  prices  ;  but  later 
on  the  anxiety  to  obtain  them  decreased,  and 
during  the  week  preceding  the  first  perform- 
ance Balzac  was  very  glad  to  dispose  of  them 
to  any  one  at  the  regular  rates. 

On  the  6th  of  March,  1842,  thirteen  days  be- 
fore the  play  was  to  be  performed,  he  wrote  to 
a  friend  as  follows  :  — 

"  Dear  Sofka,  —  Send  me  the  address  of 
the  Princess  Constantine  Razumovska,  that  I 
may  learn  from  her  whether  she  wishes  a  box. 
Let  me  know  also  whether  the  two  Princesses 
Troubetskoi  want  boxes,  whether  Kraieska 
wishes  one,  whether  the  Malakoffs,  and  the 
Countess  Leon,  and  the  Countess  Nariskine,  — 
seven  boxes  in  all.  I  must  know,  too,  whether 
they  want  them  in  the  upper  or  lower  tier  of 
the  first  gallery.  I  wish  the  handsome  women 
in  front.  ...  It  is  a  favor  to  be  admitted  to 


The  Buskin  and  the  Sock.  8i 

this  solemnity.  There  are  at  the  theatre  a 
hundred  and  fifty  applications  for  boxes  from 
people  whom  I  do  not  know  and  who  will  get 
nothing." 

On  the  1 2th  he  wrote  to  the  same  person : 
"  The  avant-scenes  are  for  the  king  and  the  cab- 
inet -y  they  take  them  by  the  year.  I  can  only 
give,  therefore,  to  the  Princess  Troubetskoi  a 
box  in  the  first  gallery,  but  it  is  one  of  the  best 
in  the  house.  .  .  .  The  costumes  have  cost 
20,000  francs ;  the  scenery  is  entirely  new. 
Every  one  insists  that  the  play  is  a  masterpiece, 
and  that  makes  me  shudder.  In  any  event,  it 
will  be  a  terrible  solemnity.  Lamartine  has 
asked  for  a  box ;  I  will  place  him  among  the 
Russians.  Every  morning  I  receive  thirty  or 
forty  applications,  but  I  will  have  no  one  whom 
I  do  not  know  about.  .  .  .  Tell  your  Russian 
friends  that  I  must  have  the  names  and  ad- 
dresses, each  accompanied  by  a  written  and  per- 
sonal recommendation  of  those  of  their  friends 
(men)  who  wish  stalls.  There  are  over  fifty 
people  a  day  who  come  under  assumed  names 
and  refuse  to  give  their  address  ;  they  are  ene- 
mies, who  wish  to  ruin  the  piece.  In  a  week  I 
shall  not  know  what  I  am  about.  We  are 
obliged  to  observe  the  most  severe  precautions. 
I  am  intoxicated  with  the  play." 

The  severe  precautions  resulted  on  the  night 
of  the  first  representation  in  a  half-empty  house. 
6 


82  Balzac. 

Few  imagined  that  seats  could  really  be  had, 
and  it  was  even  reported  that  Balzac  had  been 
obliged  to  refuse  a  seat  to  the  Due  de  Ne- 
mours. The  amateurs  resigned  themselves, 
therefore,  almost  without  a  struggle,  and  deter- 
mined that  as  they  could  not  obtain  seats  for 
the  first  performance  they  would  find  solace 
in  the  second  or  third  ;  but  on  reading  the  ar- 
ticles which  appeared  the  next  day  they  felt 
little  need  of  consolation,  for  the  fate  of  "  Vau- 
trin  "  had  been  repeated,  and  "  Quinola  "  had 
fallen  flat.  The  most  sympathetic  of  all  the 
criticisms  which  then  appeared  was  one  con- 
tained in  Le  National  for  the  i6th  of  March, 
1842.     It  runs  as  follows  :  — 

"  The  subject  of  M.  de  Balzac's  drama  was 
excellent,  but  unfortunately,  through  eccentricity 
or  negligence,  he  passed  but  to  one  side  of  the 
idea,  without  resolutely  entering  it  and  extract- 
ing all  its  wealth. 

"The  Oddon  is  the  theatre  of  tumultuous 
representations,  but  never  has  this  terrible  bat- 
tle-field offered  such  a  conglomeration  of  ex- 
clamations and  confusing  cries.  The  pit,  like  a 
sharp-shooter,  took  up  an  ambush,  behind  the 
substantives  and  verbs,  and  slaughtered  the  play 
while  it  maimed  the  actors,  who,  brave  though 
wounded,  struggled  on  to  the  end  with  a  praise- 
worthy and  melancholy  courage.  At  times  the 
comedy,  through   its   sudden  flashes  of  origi- 


The  Buskin  and  the  Sock.  83 

nality  and  abrupt  cannonades  of  wit,  seemed 
about  to  rout  the  enemy  and  wave  aloft  a  tat- 
tered but  victorious  flag.  The  faults,  however, 
were  too  numerous  and  the  errors  too  grave, 
and  in  spite  of  many  advantages  the  battle,  in 
the  end,  was  fairly  lost." 

But  in  spite  of  the  derision,  insults,  and  abuse 
with  which  the  first  representation  was  received, 
in  spite  of  the  financial  and  dramatic  shipwreck, 
after  the  commotion  had  subsided  and  the  au- 
dience had  dispersed,  Balzac,  superior  to  des- 
tiny and  indifferent  to  fate,  was  found  fast 
asleep  and  snoring  in  his  box.^ 

In  addition  to  "  Vautrin  "  and-  "  Quinola," 
three  other  plays  of  Balzac's  have  been  pro- 
duced, namely,  "  Pamela  Giraud,"  "  La  MarS- 
tre,"  and  "  Le  Faiseur  "  ("  Mercadet "),  of  which 
the  first  was  performed  at  the  Gaietd  in  Sep- 
tember, 1843,  and  enjoyed  a  moderate  suc- 
cess. Concerning  the  second,  M.  Hostein,  for- 
merly director  of  the  Theatre-Historique,  has 
offered  some  curious  information. '^  Balzac,  it 
appears,  called  upon  him  one  day,  and  ex- 
plained that  for  some  time  past  he  had  been 
thinking  over  an  historical  drama  for  the  Th^ 
atre-Historique. 

"  I  shall  call  it,"  he  said,  "  *  Pierre  et  Catha- 

^  Balzac  Chez  Liti.     Leon  Gozlan. 
'  Le  Figaro,  20  October,  1876. 


84  Balzac. 

line,'  Peter  the  Great  and  Catharine  of  Russia 
That,  I  think,  would  be  an  excellent  subject." 

"  Treated  by  you,  it  could  not  be  otherwise. 
But  are  you  far  advanced,  M.  de  Balzac  ?  " 

"  It  is  all  here,"  Balzac  answered,  tapping  his 
forehead.  "  I  have  but  to  write  it  out,  and,  if 
you  care  to,  the  first  tableau  can  be  rehearsed 
the  day  after  to-morrow." 

"  Can  you  give  me  an  idea  of  this  first  ta- 
bleau ? "  I  asked. 

"  Certainly.  We  are  in  a  Russian  inn.  You 
can  see  it  from  here.  In  this  inn  plenty  of  ac- 
tion :  the  troops  are  passing  by ;  soldiers  come 
in,  drink,  chat  for  a  moment,  and  then  off 
again,  but  everything  is  done  rapidly.  Among 
the  people  of  the  inn  is  a  servant-girl,  young, 
active,  and  alert,  —  pay  attention  to  her :  her  fig- 
ure is  good  ;  she  is  not  handsome,  but  she  is  pe- 
culiarly attractive.  The  soldiers  jest  with  her ; 
she  smiles  at  every  one,  but  her  admirers  are 
obliged  to  be  careful,  for  any  familiarity  is  an- 
swered with  a  slap,  which  is  as  good  as  a  blow. 

"A  soldier  enters  who  is  more  daring  than 
the  others.  He  is  charged  with  a  particular  mis- 
sion ;  his  time,  therefore,  is  his  own.  He  can 
drink  at  his  ease  and  chat  with  the  servant,  if 
she  pleases  him ;  for  that  matter,  she  pleases 
him  at  first  sight,  and  she  likes  the  soldier,  too. 
*  Here,'  he  says,  catching  hold  of  her  arm, 
*sit  down  at  this  table  and   drink   with  me.' 


The  Buskin  and  the  Sock.  85 

"  The  soldier  takes  a  seat,  and  the  girl  does 
the  same.  Noticing,  however,  some  objection 
on  the  part  of  the  innkeeper,  he  rises  angrily, 
and  strikes  the  table  with  his  fist.  '  If  any  one 
interferes  with  what  I  do,  I  will  bum  the  whole 
shanty  down.' 

"And  he  would  have  done  it,  too.  He  is 
a  good  soldier,  but  terrible  with  his  inferiors. 
The  old  innkeeper  motions  to  the  girl  to  obey. 
The  soldier  sits  down  again.  He  places  one 
arm  tenderly  about  the  girl's  neck,  and  then, 
having  drunk  deeply,  he  whispers,  '  I  will  give 
you  a  better  home  than  this.'  While  they  are 
talking  together,  inattentive  to  the  others,  the 
door  at  the  back  opens.  An  officer  enters,  and 
every  one  rises,  with  respect.  The  soldiers 
make  the  regulation  salute,  and  stand  motion- 
less. The  soldier  and  the  servant  alone  remain 
seated.  The  officer  notices  this,  and  grows  an- 
gry. He  looks  at  the  girl  and  advances  to- 
ward the  table ;  having  reached  the  soldier,  he 
raises  his  arm,  and  lets  it  fall  with  a  terrible 
force  on  the  shoulder  of  the  poor  devil,  who 
bends  beneath  the  shock. 

"  *  Up,  rascal ! '  the  officer  cries.  '  Go  write 
your  name  and  regiment,  and  bring  the  paper 
to  me.' 

"  At  the  first  moment,  that  is  to  say  on  re- 
ceiving the  blow,  without  knowing  by  whom  it 
had  been  directed,  the  soldier  turns  to  avenge 


86  Balzac. 

himself;  but  on  recognizing  his  superior  he 
rises  automatically,  salutes  the  officer,  and  goes 
to  another  table  to  obey  the  command.  The 
officer,  on  his  part,  examines  the  servant  with 
renewed  attention.  Her  appearance  pleases 
and  calms  him.  The  soldier  returns,  and  re- 
spectfully presents  his  paper. 

"  'Very  good,'  the  officer  says,  as  he  returns 
it  to  him.     '  Off  with  you.' 

"  The  soldier  salutes  him  again,  turns  right 
about  face,  and  marches  off,  without  even  look- 
ing at  the  girl.  The  officer,  however,  smiles 
at  her,  and  she  smiles  at  him. 

"  '  A  good-looking  man,'  she  thinks. 

"  The  good-looking  man  takes  the  seat  pre- 
viously occupied  by  the  soldier,  orders  the  best 
that  the  inn  affords,  and  invites  the  servant  to 
keep  him  company.  She  accepts  without  hes- 
itation. The  conversation  begins,  and  they 
are  soon  quite  friendly.  A  stranger  appears 
at  the  doorway.  He  is  enveloped  in  a  long 
cloak.  At  his  entrance,  men  and  women  fall 
on  their  knees ;  some  of  them  even  bend  their 
foreheads  to  the  ground.  As  was  the  case  with 
the  soldier,  the  officer  does  not  notice  what  is 
going  on  behind  him.  His  seductive  compan- 
ion has  captivated  him  completely.  In  a  mo- 
ment of  enthusiasm,  the  officer  exclaims,  '  You 
are  divine  1  I  will  take  you  with  me.  You 
shall  have  a  beautiful  apartment,  where  it  will 
be  always  warm.' 


The  Buskin  and  the  Sock.  8y 

"  From  afar  the  stranger  scrutinizes  the  cou- 
ple, and,  in  spite  of  himself,  the  girl's  sympa- 
thetic appearance  attracts  his  attention.  He 
approaches  the  table,  and,  throwing  open  his 
cloak,  stands  with  his  arms  crossed  on  his 
breast. 

"  The  officer  looks  around,  and,  immediately 
rising,  bends  on  one  knee,  and  stammers  these 
words :  — 

" '  Your  pardon,  sire  ! ' 

" '  Rise.' 

"Like  the  soldier,  the  officer  then  stands 
erect,  awaiting  the  good  pleasure  of  his  mas- 
ter. The  master,  meanwhile,  is  engaged  in 
looking  at  the  servant,  and  she,  in  turn,  is 
fearlessly  admiring  the  all-powerful  Czar. 

"  'You  may  go,'  he  says  to  the  officer.  *  I 
will  keep  this  woman.  She  shall  have  a  pal- 
s.ce. 

"  It  was  in  this  way  that  Peter  the  Great  met 
for  the  first  time  the  woman  who  afterwards 
became  Catharine  of  Russia.  .  .  . 

"  And  now  tell  me,  what  do  you  think  of  my 
prologue  ? " 

"  Very  cvuious,  very  original ;  ,but  the  rest  of 
it  ? " 

"  That  you  shall  have  in  a  little  while ;  in 
the  mean  time,  I  am  planning  an  entirely  novel 
mise-en-scbne.  Russia  is  for  our  theatres,  and 
especially  for  yours,  an  unexplored  and  fecund 
mine.     We  will  be  the  first  to  introduce  it." 


88  Balzac. 

Balzac  left  me  in  a  state  of  great  enthusiasm, 
and  I  built  mountains  of  hopes  on  the  inevita- 
ble success  of  "  Pierre  et  Catharine," 

When  I  saw  him  again,  however,  everything 
had  changed.  He  had  given  up  the  Russian 
drama  for  the  moment,  but  promised  to  com- 
plete it  later  on.  He  had,  he  said,  thought  it 
over.  It  was  a  colossal  undertaking,  in  which 
nothing  should  be  neglected;  and  as  the  de- 
tails concerning  certain  ceremonies  were  want- 
ing, he  proposed  to  take  a  trip  to  Moscow  dur- 
ing the  winter,  and  study  the  subject  on  the 
ground  itself.  He  begged  me,  therefore,  not 
to  insist  upon  its  immediate  production,  and 
offered  another  play  in  the  place  of  the  one 
thus  postponed. 

In  spite  of  my  disappointment,  I  could,  of 
course,  do  nothing  but  submit,  and  in  sheer 
despair  I  asked  him  to  tell  me  something  of 
his  new  piece. 

"  It  will  be  horrible,"  Balzac  contentedly  re- 
plied. 

"  How,  horrible  ? " 

*'  Understand  me  :  it  is  not  a  question  of  a 
heavy  melodrama,  in  which  the  villain  burns 
the  house  down,  and  runs  the  inmates  through 
and  through,  —  not  at  all.  My  play  is  to  be  a 
simple  comedy,  in  which  everything  is  calm, 
tranquil,  and  pleasing.  The  men  play  plac- 
idly at  whist,  the  women  laugh  and  chat  over 


The  Buskin  and  the  Sock.  89 

their  worsted  work,  everything  announces  har- 
mony and  order;  but  beneath  this  calm  sur- 
face passions  are  at  work,  and  the  drama  fer- 
ments, till  at  last  it  bursts  forth  like  the  flame 
of  a  conflagration." 

"  You  are  in  your  element,  sir.  Then  your 
plot  is  found  ? " 

"Completely.  It  was  chance,  our  habitual 
coUaborateur,  that  furnished  me  with  it.  I 
know  a  family,  —  whom  I  will  not  name,  — 
composed  of  a  husband,  a  daughter  by  a  first 
marriage,  and  a  stepmother,  still  young  and 
childless.  The  two  women  adore  each  other. 
The  little  attentions  of  the  one  and  the  caress- 
ing tenderness  of  the  other  are  admired  by 
all  who  know  them.  I,  too,  thought  it  charm- 
ing, at  first ;  then  I  became  surprised,  not  that 
a  stepdaughter  and  stepmother  should  love 
each  other,  —  for  there  is  nothing  unnatural  in 
such  an  affection,  —  but  that  they  should  love 
each  other  so  dearly.  Excess  spoils  all  things. 
I  began,  therefore,  to  observe  them  more 
closely,  and  a  few  trivial  incidents  served  to 
confirm  my  impression  that  all  was  not  as  it 
appeared.  Finally,  a  few  evenings  ago,  all 
doubt  on  the  subject  was  removed.  When  I 
entered  the  drawing-room,  it  was  almost  de- 
serted, and  I  saw  the  daughter  leaving  the 
room  without  having  seen  me ;  in  so  doing,  she 
glanced  at  her  stepmother,  and  what  a  look 


90  Balzac. 

she  gave  her !  It  was  like  the  thrust  of  a  dag- 
ger. The  stepmother  was  engaged  in  putting 
out  the  candles  on  the  whist-table.  She  turned 
to  the  girl ;  their  eyes  met,  and  the  most  gra- 
cious of  smiles  played  on  their  lips.  The  door 
closed  on  the  girl,  and  the  expression  on  the 
stepmother's  face  changed  suddenly  to  one  of 
bitter  contraction.  All  this,  you  will  readily 
understand,  passed  like  a  flash  of  lightning; 
but  I  had  seen  quite  enough,  and  I  said  to  my- 
self, Here  are  two  creatures  who  loathe  each 
other.  What  had  happened  ?  I  do  not  know, 
and  I  never  want  to ;  but  from  that  moment 
the  entire  drama  unrolled  before  me." 

"  And  for  the  first  representation,  you  will, 
of  course,  offer  a  box  to  these  ladies,  that  they 
may  profit  by  the  moral  which  your  play  will 
necessarily  point  ? " 

"Assuredly  I  shall  do  so;  and  since  you 
mention  it,  I  will  be  obliged  if  you  will  re- 
serve an  extra  box  for  me.  I  have  not,  how- 
ever, the  slightest  intention  of  teaching  them  a 
lesson,  and  I  consider  that  a  novelist  or  dram- 
atist would  be  highly  presumptuous  did  he 
write  with  such  an  object  An  author  should 
influence  only  through  instinct  or  chance.  To 
return,  however,  to  these  ladies :  that  they  play 
a  comedy  of  tenderness  is  to  me  beyond  a 
doubt,  but  as  between  ourselves  matters  will, 
in  all  probability,  rest  where  they  are.     My  fe- 


The  Buskin  and  the  Sock,  91 

rocious  deductions  are  but  the  fruit  of  my  im- 
agination, and  will  never,  I  trust,  have  any- 
thing in  common  with  the  realities  of  their 
existence ;  but  in  the  event  of  their  disunion 
containing  the  germs  of  a  violent  climax,  it  is 
very  possible  that  my  play  will  pull  them  up 
with  a  round  turn." 

The  months  rolled  on.  Balzac  went  to  Rus- 
sia, and  as  soon  as  I  heard  of  his  return  I 
called  upon  him  at  his  residence  in  the  Rue 
Fortunee.  A  servant  in  a  red  vest  took  my 
card,  and  a  few  moments  later  I  was  ushered 
into  a  low-ceilinged  room.  Balzac  was  at  the 
other  end  of  it,  and  cried  out  from  afar,  "  Here 
is  your  manuscript ! "  Then  I  saw  my  au- 
thor standing  by  his  work-table,  clothed  in  a 
long,  monkish  robe  of  white  linen,  with  one 
hand  resting  on  a  mass  of  paper.  I  ran  to 
him. 

On  the  first  page  Balzac  had  written  in  large 
characters,  "  Gertrude,  tragddie  bourgeoise  en 
cinq  actes,  en  prose."  On  the  back  was  the 
proposed  distribution  of  the  play.  Melingue 
was  designated  for  the  role  of  Ferdinand,  the 
lover  of  the  stepmother  and  daughter ;  Madame 
Dorval  was  to  play  Gertrude ;  and  the  other 
parts  were  to  be  filled  by  Mathis,  Barre,  etc. 

Beneath  these  names  the  author  had  minutely 
indicated  everything  which  concerned  the  play, 
—  the  action,  the  furniture,   and  the  decora- 


ga  Balzac. 

tions ;  he  had  even  given  the  measure  for  the 
double  carpet  which  he  judged  indispensable 
to  the  mise-en-scbne. 

It  was  then  agreed  that  the  play  should  be 
read  the  next  day  in  the  presence  of  Madame 
Dorval  and  Melingue.  When,  therefore,  we 
had  all  assembled  at  the  appointed  time,  he 
read  it  through  from  beginning  to  end,  without 
stopping,  and  then  quietly  remarked,  "  It  is 
much  too  long ;  it  must  be  cut  down  a  quarter." 
Not  only  did  he  cut  it  down,  but  he  changed 
the  title  to  that  of  "  La  Maratre,"  which  it  has 
since  so  gloriously  borne. 

It  was  first  represented  in  June,  1848,  in  the 
midst  of  the  most  disastrous  political  circum- 
stances. .  .  .  The  theatres  were  necessarily 
abandoned,  but  such  is  the  power  of  genius 
that  all  the  bold  and  brave  in  literature  who 
remained  in  Paris  gathered  that  night,  and 
received  Balzac's  work  with  the  sympathy  and 
applause  which  it  so  richly  merited. 

The  next  morning  I  paid  him  a  visit.  "  We 
had  quite  a  victory  last  night !  "  I  joyously  ex- 
claimed. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered ;  "  a  victory  like  that  of 
Charles  XII." 

On  taking  leave  of  him,  I  asked  where  he 
had  been  during  the  representation.  "Why," 
he  answered,  with  a  smile,  "  I  was  in  a  box 
with  those  ladies.  They  were  greatly  interested 


The  Buskin  and  the  Sock.  93 

in  the  play.  At  the  moment  when  Pauline 
poisons  herself,  that  her  stepmother  may  be 
accused  of  assassinating  her,  the  young  girl 
screamed  with  terror;  the  tears  were  in  her 
eyes,  and  she  looked  reproachfully  at  me.  Then 
she  grasped  her  stepmother's  hand,  and  raised 
it  to  her  lips  with  a  movement  "  — 

' "  Of  sincerity  ?  " 

"  Ah,  yes,  indeed." 

"  You  see,  then,  that  your  play  may  serve  as 
a  lesson." 

Balzac's  last  play,  "Le  Faiseur,"  was  pro- 
duced for  the  first  time  at  the  Gymnase,  a  year 
after  his  death,  under  the  title  of  "  Mercadet." 
Its  success  was  immediate,  and  its  hundredth 
performance  was  the  occasion  of  an  article 
by  Alberic  Second  in  "Le  Constitutionnel," 
18  June,  1852,  which  is  at  once  so  graceful  and 
fantastic  that  its  reproduction  here  cannot  fail 
to  afford  some  pleasure  to  the  readers  of  the 
"  Comedie  Humaine  :  "  — 

The  hundredth  performance  of  "  Mercadet  " 
was  given  the  other  evening  at  the  Gymnase- 
Dramatique.  "  Mercadet "  is,  it  will  be  remem- 
bered, the  posthumous  piece  of  M.  de  Balzac, 
which  at  the  time  of  its  production  excited 
such  great  curiosity.  Without  any  previous 
agreement,  but  none  the  less  certain  of  meet* 


94  Balzac. 

ing,  a  dozen  of  us,  all  passionate  admirers  of 
the  illustrious  deceased,  found  ourselves,  that 
evening,  intermingled  with  the  line  which  from 
six  o'clock  in  the  evening  had  been  undulat- 
ing from  the  Boulevard  Bonne  Nouvelle  to 
the  door  of  the  theatre.  We  had  all  assisted 
ten  months  before  at  the  first  representation 
of  the  play,  and  we  piously  reassembled  at  this 
jubilee  of  glory  and  genius  in  the  same  manner 
as  we  had  gone  the  year  before,  and  in  the 
same  manner  that  each  year  we  shall  go,  on 
the  1 8th  of  August,  to  wreathe  with  immor- 
telles the  tomb  of  the  great  writer. 

M.  de  Balzac  was  not  one  of  those  who  in- 
spire lukewarm  affection,  and  they  who  have 
had  the  honor  of  knowing  him  preserve  his 
memory  religiously  in  their  hearts.  That  life  of 
his,  full  of  struggles  incessantly  renewed,  the 
hourly  and  truceless  combat  which  he  waged, 
sum  up  so  completely  the  existence  of  the  lit- 
erary men  of  the  nineteenth  century  that  it  is 
impossible  for  us  to  consider  his  grand  and 
mournful  figure  otherwise  than  as  the  personi- 
fication of  an  entire  class.  It  is  for  this  reason 
that  God,  who  is  sovereignly  just,  will  accord 
to  him  hereafter  a  glory  as  great  and  incon- 
testable as  his  life  was  tormented  and  sad.  It 
is  for  this  reason  that  it  behooves  us,  who  are 
the  humble  sacristans  of  the  temple  in  which 
he  was  the  radiant  high  priest,  to  see  that  his 


The  Buskin  and  the  Sock.  95 

altars  are  ever  adorned  with  fresh  flowers  and 
that  the  incense  ceaselessly  burns  in  the  cen- 
sers. 

When  we  entered  the  theatre,  it  was,  with  the 
exception  of  a  few  boxes  and  a  number  of  or- 
chestra stalls  which  had  been  sold  in  advance, 
entirely  filled.  My  seat  was  next  to  that  of 
a  gentleman  apparently  about  forty-five  years 
old.  His  bearing  was  exceedingly  aristocratic; 
he  was  dressed  with  the  most  exquisite  ele- 
gance, and  his  buttonhole  bloomed  with  a  ro- 
sette in  which  were  intermingled  in  harmonious 
confusion  all  the  orders  of  Europe  and  every 
shade  of  the  rainbow.  My  neighbor  was  care- 
lessly turning  the  pages  of  the  "  Entr'acte," 
and  I  took  great  pleasure  in  studying  his  well- 
poised  head  ;  wondering  the  while  whether  I 
had  not  met  him  somewhere  before,  and  what 
his  name  might  be.  When  he  had  finished 
reading  he  rose,  turned  his  back  to  the  stage, 
drew  an  opera-glass  from  his  pocket,  and  began 
to  examine  the  house  ;  an  E  and  an  R,  sur- 
mounted by  a  count's  coronet,  were  engraved 
in  letters  of  gold  on  the  case  which  he  placed 
on  his  seat.  From  time  to  time  he  bowed  and 
waved  his  hand.  My  eyes  mechanically  fol- 
lowed the  direction  of  his  own,  and  I  was  not 
a  little  surprised  at  noticing  that  his  smiles 
and  salutations  were  addressed  exclusively  to 
the   unoccupied   boxes.     When  he  passed  all 


96  Balzac. 

the  boxes  in  review  he  turned  his  attention  to 
the  orchestra  stalls,  and  the  strange  phenom- 
enon was  repeated.  His  opera-glass,  flitting 
from  stall  to  stall,  stopped  only  at  the  empty 
ones ;  he  would  then  bow,  or  make  an  almost 
imperceptible  sign  with  the  ends  of  his  deli- 
cately gloved  fingers.  Dominated  by  that  de- 
testable pride  which  causes  us  to  consider  as 
insane  all  those  whose  actions  or  remarks  are 
unintelligible  to  us,  I  murmured  to  myself.  He 
is  crazy.  Then,  as  though  he  wished  to  remove 
the  slightest  doubt  which  I  might  have  retained 
on  this  point,  my  neighbor  bent  over  toward 
the  seat  at  his  left,  and  appeared  to  exchange 
a  few  words  with  an  imaginary  spectator.  This 
seat  was  one  of  those  which  had  been  let  in 
advance,  and  it  was  probable  that  its  tenant, 
who  was  still  absent,  was  interested  only  in  the 
great  play.  I  have  omitted  to  state  that  the 
performance  began  with  a  little  vaudeville. 

At  this  moment  one  of  my  friends  entered 
the  orchestra,  passed  before  me,  shook  my 
hand,  and  called  me  by  name.  My  neighbor 
immediately  turned  around,  gazed  attentively 
at  me  for  a  moment  or  two,  and  then  said,  — 

"Why,  my  dear  fellow  countryman,  — for  you 
are  from  La  Charente,  I  believe,  —  I  am  de- 
lighted to  see  you." 

"  To  whom  have  I  the  honor  of  speaking  ? " 
I  asked,  in  great  surprise. 


The  Buskin  and  the  Sock.  97 

My  neighbor  drew  from  his  pocket  a  card, 
which  he  gallantly  presented  to  me.  My  aston- 
ishment was  so  great  that  I  almost  screamed 
aloud ;  fortunately,  however,  I  preserved  my 
presence  of  mind.  On  the  card,  I  read  these 
words  :  — 

"  Le  Comte  Eugene  de  Rastignac." 

"  M.  de  Rastignac  ? "  I  repeated,  incredu- 
lously. 

"  In  person." 

"  The  one  who  was  born  at  Ruffec  ? " 

"Precisely." 

"  The  cousin  of  Madame  de  Beauseant  ? " 

"  Himself." 

"  Is  it  you  who  lived  at  the  boarding-house 
kept  by  Madame  Vauquer,  ne'e  De  Con- 
flans  ? " 

"  Exactly." 

"  And  who  knew  the  P^re  Goriot  and  Vau- 
trin  ? " 

"Yes,  indeed." 

"You  exist,  then  ?"  I  stupidly  inquired. 

M.  de  Rastignac  began  to  smile. 

"Do  you  think  that  I  present  the  appear- 
ance of  a  phantom  ? "  he  asked,  as  he  gracefully 
twirled  his  moustache. 

"  Sir,"  I  said,  "  I  can  readily  understand  that 
M.  de  Balzac  should  have  borrowed  your  per- 
sonality and  extracted  a  great  deal  therefrom 
for  the  edification  of  his  readers ;  but  that  he 
7 


98  Balzac. 

should  have  taken  your  name !  —  that,  indeed,  is 
something  that  I  cannot  believe." 

"  I  had  authorized  him  so  to  do." 

"  You  ? " 

"  Not  only  I  did  so,  but  all  my  friends  did 
the  same." 

"All,  you  say?" 

"  Certainly." 

**  Of  whom  do  you  speak  ? " 

"Of  those  who  are  in  the  theatre  and  to 
whom  I  have  just  bowed." 

"  But  where  are  they  ? " 

"  Ah,  yes  ;  I  forgot  you  cannot  see  them." 

M.  de  Rastignac  lightly  touched  my  fore- 
head with  the  forefinger  of  his  right  hand,  and, 
light  as  was  his  touch,  I  immediately  felt  a  vio- 
lent electric  shock,  and  it  seemed  as  though  I 
had  undergone  an  operation  similar  to  that  of 
removing  a  cataract. 

"Now  look  about  you,"  said  M.  de  Ras- 
tignac, and  he  pointed  to  the  boxes  and  stalls 
which  I  had  thought  were  empty.  They  were 
occupied  by  ladies  and  gentlemen,  laughing 
and  talking  together  in  a  most  unghostlike 
fashion, 

"  They  are  almost  all  there,"  said  Madame 
Vauquer's  former  lodger.  "  The  principal  per- 
sonages of  the  '  Comedie  Humaine '  have,  like 
you,  come  to  salute  the  hundredth  representa- 
tion of  'Mercadet,'  and  their  applause  is  so 


The  Buskin  and  the  Sock.  99 

loud,  so  loud,  that  the  echo  of  their  bravos  will 
rejoice  Balzac  in  his  tomb." 

"  Am  I  losing  my  reason  ? "  I  asked  my- 
self. 

"  I  see  that  you  are  skeptical,  my  dear  fel- 
low," M.  de  Rastignac  continued,  "  but  let  me 
give  you  a  few  proofs.  Here  is  one  which  will 
satisfy  you,  I  imagine  ; "  and,  turning  about,  he 
called  to  one  of  the  spectators  :  — 

"  Nathan !  " 

"  Well,  my  dear  count  ?  " 

"  Where  and  when  is  your  next  drama  1 " 

"  It  will  be  given  at  the  opening  of  the  Ara- 
bigu-Comique." 

"  Will  you  send  me  a  box  ?  " 

"  Your  name  is  already  on  the  list." 

"  Du  Bruel !  " 

"What  is  it?" 

"  You  are  becoming  lazy,  now  that  you  are 
a  member  of  the  Academic." 

"  I  ?  I  have  five  acts  in  rehearsal  at  the 
Vaudeville  and  two  at  the  Varietds." 

"That  is  not  so  bad,  then.  But  where  is 
your  wife  ? " 

"Tullia?  She  is  in  the  third  box  to  the 
left." 

"  Alone  ? " 

"  With  La  Palf^rine." 

"  Bixion,  your  last  caricatures  were  infa- 
mous." 


100  Balzac. 

"Bah!  I  would  like  to  see  you  try  your 
hand  at  them,  with  the  censure  at  your  heels." 

"  How  are  you,  Lou  de  Lora  ?  How  are  you, 
Stedman  ?  Your  exposition  is  superb.  Ah,  my 
friends,  you  are  the  princes  of  the  Musee.  But 
I  say,  Stedman,  Pradier  has  just  died  :  there  is 
a  fine  place  open." 

"  Yes ;  but  then,  alas,  there  are  men  who 
can  never  be  replaced." 

All  these  questions  and  answers  bounded 
like  the  balls  which  two  clever  players  serve 
and  receive  in  a  well-played  game  of  tennis. 

M.  de  Rastignac  turned  to  me.    "  Are  you  as 
incredulous  as  before  ?  "  he  smilingly  inquired. 
"  I  ?    God  forbid,  sir,  that  I  should  doubt 
your  word." 

In  reality,  however,  I  knew  neither  what  to 
think  nor  what  to  beUeve,  for  I  had  curiously 
examined  all  these  people  whom  my  celebrated 
compatriot  had  addressed,  and  who,  through 
M.  de  Balzac,  as  well  as  through  their  own 
achievements,  were  known  and  liked  through- 
out civilized  Europe.  With  the  exception  of 
Bixion,  who  was  thin,  poorly  dressed,  and  not 
decorated,  all  the  others  appeared  to  be  in  the 
most  flourishing  state  of  health  and  fortune. 
Madame  TuUia  du  Bruel  was  as  appetizing  as 
ever,  and  La  Palferine,  familiarly  leaning  on 
the  back  of  her  chair,  exposed  an  ideal  shirt 
and  an  impossible  vest. 


The  Buskin  and  the  Sock.  lOi 

"Does  M.  de  la  Palfdrine  no  longer  visit 
Madame  de  Rochegude  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  He  is  now  entirely  devoted  to  Tullia,  and 
asserts  that,  after  all,  Du  Bruel's  cook  is  the 
finest  artist  in  Paris." 

"  Is  Madame  de  Rochegude  still  living  ? " 

"  She  sits  in  that  second  box  to  the  right." 

"Who  is  with  her?" 

"Conti." 

"  The  celebrated  musician  ? " 

"  Yes,  indeed.     You  remember  the  song,  — 

" '  Et  Ton  revient  toujours, 
A  ses  premiers  amours.'  " 

It  was  with  the  greatest  eagerness  that  I 
had  turned  to  look  at  this  artificial  blonde,  who 
had  been  so  greatly  beloved  by  the  young 
Baron  Calyste  du  Gu^nic.  (Vide  Beatrix.)  A 
lace  scarf  was  twisted  about  her  neck  in  such  a 
way  as  to  diminish  its  length.  She  appeared 
worn  and  fatigued ;  but  her  figure  was  a  mas- 
terpiece of  composition,  and  she  offered  that 
compound  of  light  and  brilliant  drapery,  of 
gauze  and  crimped  hair,  of  vivacity  and  calm, 
which  is  termed  the  je  ne  sais  quoi. 

Conti  was  also  an  object  of  great  interest  to 
me.  He  looked  vexed,  out  of  sorts,  and  bored, 
and  seemed  to  be  meditating  on  the  eternal 
truth  of  that  aphorism,  profound  and  sombre 
as  an  abyss,  which  teaches  that  a  cigar  once 


I02  Balzac. 

out  should  never  be  relighted,  and  an  affection 
once  buried  should  never  be  exhumed. 

"  Is  the  Baron  de  Nucingen  here  ?  "  I  asked. 

"Nucingen  is  confined  to  his  bed  with  the 
gout ;  he  has  not  two  good  months  out  of  the 
twelve." 

"  And  his  wife  ? " 

"The  baroness  no  longer  goes  to  the  the- 
atre. Religion,  charity,  and  sermons  occupy 
every  instant  of  her  time.  Her  father,  Pfere 
Goriot,  has  now  a  white  marble  tomb  and  a 
perpetual  resting-place  in  the  cemetery  of  Pfere 
La  Chaise." 

"  Where  is  her  sister,  Madame  de  Restand  ? " 

"  She  died  a  few  years  ago,  legally  separated 
from  her  husband." 

"Pardon  my  insatiable  curiosity,"  I  said, 
"  but  ever  since  I  was  old  enough  to  read  and 
think  I  have  not  ceased  to  live  with  the  per- 
sonages of  the  '  Comedie  Humaine.'  " 

"  I  am  glad  indeed,"  he  courteously  replied, 
"  to  be  able  to  answer  your  questions.  Is  there 
anything  that  you  still  care  to  know  ? " 

"  What  has  become  of  the  ex-minister  of 
agriculture  and  commerce,  the  Comte  Popinot, 
whom  we  called  the  little  Anselme  Popinot, 
in  the  days  of  the  greatness  and  decadence 
of  Cesar  Birotteau  ? " 

"  He  followed  the  exiled  princes  to  Eng- 
land.'' 


The  Buskin  and  the  Sock.        103 

"AndDuTillet?" 

"  Du  Tillet  is  no  longer  in  France." 

**  Did  he  leave  for  political  reasons  ? " 

"  Is  it  possible  that  you  did  not  hear  of  his 
failure  !  He  absconded  one  day,  with  the  till, 
ruined  by  Jenny  Cadine  and  Suzanne  du  VaK 
Noble." 

"Where  are  the  children  of  Madame  de 
Montsauf,  that  celestial  creature,  so  justly  called 
le  Lys  dans  la  Vallee  ? " 

"  Jacques  died  of  consumption,  leaving  Mad- 
eleine sole  mistress  of  an  enormous  fortune.  In 
spite  of  what  M.  de  Balzac  said,  I  always  sup- 
posed that  she  was  secretly  in  love  with  Felix  de 
Vandernesse.  She  is  in  that  first  avant-scbne. 
She  is  an  old  maid  now,  but  is  none  the  less  an 
adorable  woman,  and  the  true  daughter  of  her 
mother." 

"  Do  you  know  the  name  of  that  individual 
who  has  just  entered  her  box  ? " 

"  That  is  Canalis." 

"Canalis,  the  great  poet,  who  played  such 
an  important  part  in  the  life  of  Modeste  Mig- 
non  ? " 

"  Precisely." 

"  I  had  thought  that  he  was  younger," 

"  He  has  grown  quite  old  during  these  last 
few  years.  He  has  turned  his  attention  to  pol- 
itics, and  you  may  notice  how  politics  hollows 
the  cheeks  and  silvers  the  hair  of  poetry.     He 


104  Balzac. 

would  bankrupt  Golconda,  however,  and  he  is 
now  attempting  to  win  Mile,  de  Montsauf  and 
her  millions.  But  look  to  the  left,  in  that  first 
box  from  the  door  of  the  gallery,  and  see 
whether  you  do  not  recognize  one  of  the  most 
curious  physiognomies  of  the  '  Comedie  Hu- 
maine.' " 

"  Do  you  mean  that  stout  woman  ? " 

"  Yes  ;  it  is  Madame  Nourrisau." 

"  Vautrin's  aunt  ?  " 

"In  flesh  and  blood,  especially  in  flesh. 
There  is  the  formidable  hag  who  went  one  day 
to  the  son  of  the  Baron  Hulot,  and  proposed, 
for  fifty  thousand  francs,  to  rid  him  of  Madame 
Marneffe.  You  must  have  read  about  it  in 
•La  Cousine  Bette.' " 

"  She  is  not  alone,  I  see." 

"  She  is  with  her  husband." 

"Her  husband?  Is  it  possible  that  she 
found  one  ? " 

"  You  forget  that  she  is  five  or  six  times  mil- 
lionaire, and  also  the  general  rule  that  where  it 
rains  millions  husbands  sprout.  Her  name  is 
now  Madame  Gaudessart,  nee  Vautrin." 

"  Is  it  the  illustrious  Gaudessart  who  is  the 
husband  of  that  horrible  creature  ?  " 

"Legally  so,  I  beg  you  to  believe." 

"  Speaking  of  the  '  Cousine  Bette,'  can  you 
tell  me  anything  of  Wencelas  Steinbock  and 
his  wife  ? " 


The  Buskin  and  the  Sock.         105 

"They  are  perfectly  happy.  It  is  young 
Hulot  who  misbehaves ;  his  wife  is  in  that  box 
over  there,  with  the  Steinbocks.  Hulot  has 
told  them  that  he  will  join  them  later,  and 
has  probably  stated  that  he  had  some  urgent 
law  business  to  attend  to  ;  but  the  truth  is  that 
he  is  behind  the  scenes  at  the  opera.  Hulot 
is  not  his  father's  son  for  nothing." 

At  this  point  M.  de  Rastignac  smiled  affec- 
tionately at  a  white-haired  musician,  who  was 
tuning  his  violin. 

"  Is  that  the  Cousin  Pons  ?  "  I  asked. 

"You  forget  two  things:  first,  that  the 
Cousin  Pons  is  dead ;  and  secondly,  that  in  his 
lifetime  he  always  wore  a  green  velvet  coat.  But 
though  Orestes  is  no  more,  Pylades  still  lives. 
Damon  has  survived  Pythias.  It  is  Schmucke 
who  sits  before  you.  He  is  very  poor ;  he  has 
nothing  but  the  fifty  francs  a  month  which  he 
earns  here,  and  the  payment  of  a  few  piano 
lessons  at  seventy-five  centimes  each ;  but  he 
will  not  accept  any  assistance,  and,  for  my 
part,  I  have  never  seen  tatters  more  proudly 
worn." 

"  Can  you  not,"  I  asked,  "  show  me  M. 
Maxime  de  Trailles  ? " 

"De  Trailles  no  longer  lives  in  Paris. 
When  the  devil  grows  stout  he  turns  hermit. 
This  retired  condottiere  is  now  a  married  man, 
the  father  of  a  family,  and  resides  in  the  coun- 


io6  Balzac. 

try.  He  makes  speeches  at  the  agricultural 
fairs,  takes  great  interest  in  cattle,  and  repre- 
sents his  county  at  the  general  assembly  of  his 
department,  —  the  late  Maxime  de  Trailles,  as 
he  is  now  pleased  to  call  himself." 
"  And  Des  Lupeaulx  ?  " 
"Des  Lupeaulx  is  a  prefect  of  the  first 
class.  But  in  place  of  these  gentlemen,  you 
have  before  you,  in  that  box,  the  Count  Fdlix 
de  Vandernesse  and  the  Countess  Nathalie  de 
Manerville  ;  a  little  beyond,  the  Grandvilles  and 
the  Grandlieux ;  then,  the  Duke  de  Rhetord, 
Laginski,  D'Esgrignon  Montreveau,  Rochefide, 
and  D'Ajuda-Ponto.  Moreover,  there  are  the 
Cheffrevilles  ;  but  then  what  a  pity  it  is  that 
our  poor  Camille  Maupin  is  not  present  at  this 
solemnity  !  " 

"  Is  it  of  Mile,  de  Touches  that  you  speak  ?  " 
"Yes." 

"  Is  she  still  religiously  inclined  ? " 
"  She  died  like  a  saint,  two  years  ago,  in  a 
convent  near  Nantes.  She  retired  from  the 
world,  you  remember,  after  accomplishing  the 
marriage  of  Calyste  du  Gue'nic  and  Sabine  de 
Grandlieu.  What  a  woman  she  was !  There 
are  none  like  her  now." 

These  last  words  of  M.  de  Rastignac  were 
covered  by  the  three  traditional  knocks  which 
precede  the  rise  of  the  curtain. 

" '  Mercadet '  is  about  to  commence,"  he  said. 


The  Buskin  and  the  Sock.         107 

"  After  the  first  act  I  will  continue  my  gossip ; 
provided,  of  course,  that  I  do  not  weary  you 
with  it." 

"  Oh,  my  dear  sir  !  "  I  cried.     "  My  "  — 

I  had  not  time  to  complete  my  phrase  ;  a 
friendly  but  vigorous  hand  grasped  my  arm. 

"  So  you  come  to  *  Mercadet '  to  sleep,  do 
you  ? "  said  a  well-known  voice. 

"  I  ?    Am  I  asleep  ?  " 

"  You  are  not  asleep  now,  but  you  were." 

I  turned  quickly  around. 

My  neighbor  was  a  fat-faced  gentleman, 
with  blue  spectacles,  who  was  peeling  an  or- 
ange with  the  most  ridiculous  gravity. 

In  the  boxes  and  orchestra  stalls,  wherever 
I  had  thought  to  see  the  personages  of  the 
"Comddie  Humaine,"  I  found  only  insignifi- 
cant faces,  of  the  ordinary  and  graceless  type, 
—  a  collection  of  obliterated  medals. 

At  this  moment  the  curtain  rose,  the  actors 
appeared,  and  the  great  comedy  of  "  Mercadet  " 
was  revealed,  amid  the  applause  and  delight  of 
the  crowd. 

I  had  been  dreaming,  therefore,  and  if  I 
had  been  dreaming  I  must  have  been  asleep. 
But  what  had  provoked  my  somnolence  ?  Was 
it  the  approach  of  a  storm,  the  heat  of  the 
theatre,  or  the  vaudeville  with  which  the  per- 
formance commenced  ? 

Perhaps  all  three. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  CHASE   FOR   GOLD. 

"Nullum  magnum  ingenium  sine  mixtura  dementias  est." — Sen- 
eca, De  TranquUlitate  Animi,  c.  15. 

From  Balzac's  early  manhood  his  entire  ex- 
istence was  consumed  in  a  feverish  pursuit  of 
wealth  j  and  had  the  mines  of  California  been 
discovered  at  an  earlier  date,  there  is  little 
doubt  that  he  would  have  exchanged  his  pen 
for  a  pick,  and  sought,  in  a  red  shirt,  to  real- 
ize the  millions  with  which  he  dowered  his 
characters. 

At  the  outset  of  his  career,  he  was,  as  has 
been  seen,  unsuccessful  in  a  business  enter- 
prise, and  became,  in  consequence,  heavily  in- 
volved in  debt.  This  spectre  of  the  past 
haunted  him  so  continually  that  it  not  only 
found  frequent  expression  in  his  writings,  in 
which  money  became  a  hymn,  but  it  brought 
to  him  illusions  and  projects  of  fortune  which 
were  at  once  curious  and  fantastic. 

At  one  time,  shortly  after  the  publication  of 
"  Facino  Cane,"  —  who,  it  will  be  remembered, 
was  imprisoned  in  the  dungeons  of  Venice, 


The  Chase  for  Gold.  109 

and,  in  making  his  escape,  discovered  the  hid- 
den treasures  of  the  Doges,  which  he  proposed 
to  seek  and  share  with  his  biographer,  —  Bal- 
zac became  fairly  intoxicated  with  the  delusions 
of  his  hero,  and  his  dreams  of  secreted  wealth 
assumed  such  a  semblance  of  reality  that  he  at 
last  imagined,  or  pretended  that  he  had  learned, 
the  exact  spot  where  Toussaint  Louverture  had 
buried  his  famous  booty. 

"'The  Gold  Bug'  of  Edgar  Poe,"  Gautier 
writes,  "  did  not  equal  in  delicacy  of  induction 
,and  clearness  of  detail  his  feverish  recital  of 
the  proposed  expedition  by  which  we  were  to 
become  masters  of  a  treasure  far  richer  than 
Kidd's. 

"  Sandeau  was  as  easily  seduced  as  myself. 
It  was  necessary  that  Balzac  should  have  two 
robust  and  devoted  accomplices,  and,  in  ex- 
change for  our  assistance,  he  was  good  enough 
to  offer  to  each  of  us  a  quarter  of  the  prodig- 
ious fortune.  Half  was  to  be  his,  by  right  of 
conquest.  It  was  arranged  that  we  were  to 
purchase  spades  and  picks,  place  them  secretly 
in  a  ship,  and,  to  avoid  suspicion,  reach  the 
designated  spot  by  different  roads,  and  then, 
after  having  disinterred  the  treasure,  we  were 
to  embark  with  it  on  a  brig  freighted  in  ad- 
vance. In  short,  it  was  a  real  romance,  which 
would  have  been  admirable  had  it  been  written 
instead  of  recited.     It  is  of  course  unnecessary 


no  Balzac . 

to  add  that  the  booty  was  not  unearthed.  We 
discovered  that  we  had  no  money  to  pay  our 
traveling  expenses,  and  our  united  capital  was 
insufficient  to  purchase  even  the  spades." 

At  another  time  Balzac  conceived  the  project 
of  manufacturing  paper  from  a  substance  which 
was  at  once  cheap  and  plentiful.  Experiments, 
however,  proved  that  his  plan  was  impracti- 
cable, and  a  friend  who  called  to  console  him 
found  that,  instead  of  being  dejected,  he  was 
even  more  jovial  than  ever. 

"  Never  mind  about  the  paper,"  he  said.  "  I 
have  a  better  scheme  yet." 

It  was  this  :  While  reading  Tacitus,  he  had 
stumbled  upon  a  reference  to  the  mines  of  Sar- 
dinia ;  his  imagination,  aided  by  his  scientific 
knowledge,  carried  him  back  to  the  imperfect 
mechanical  processes  of  old  Rome,  and  he  saw 
at  once  a  vision  of  wealth,  awaiting  only  modern 
appliances  to  be  his  own.  With  the  greatest 
difficulty  he  collected  —  partly  from  his  mother, 
partly  from  his  cousin,  and  partly  from  that 
aunt  whom  the  Anglo-Saxon  Bohemian  has 
converted  into  an  uncle — the  sum  of  five  hun- 
dred francs  \  and  then,  having  reached  Genoa, 
he  embarked  for  Alghiero,  explaining  his  proj- 
ect to  the  captain  of  the  vessel  with  the  candor 
of  an  infant. 

Once  in  Sardinia,  dressed  like  a  beggar,  —  a 
terror  to  brigands  and  monks,  —  he  sought  the 


The  Chase  for  Gold.  i  T " 

mines  on  foot.  They  were  easily  found.  WitK 
a  few  specimens  of  the  ore,  he  returned  im- 
mediately to  Paris,  where  an  analysis  showed 
them  to  contain  a  large  proportion  of  silver. 
Jubilant  with  success,  he  would  then  have  ap- 
plied to  the  Italian  government  for  a  conces- 
sion of  the  mines,  but  unfortunately  he  was,  for 
the  moment,  detained  by  lawsuits  and  other 
business,  and  when  he  at  last  set  out  for  Milan 
it  was  too  late.  The  perfidious  captain  had 
thought  the  idea  so  good  that,  without  prelimi- 
nary examinations,  he  had  lost  no  time  in  se- 
curing an  authorization  in  due  form,  and  was 
then  quietly  proceeding  to  make  a  fortune. 

"There  is  a  million  in  the  mines,"  Balzac 
wrote  to  his  sister.  "  A  Marseilles  firm  has  as- 
sayed the  scoriae,  but  the  delay  has  been  fatal. 
The  Genoese  captain  has  already  obtained  a 
contract  from  the  government.  However,  I 
have  another  idea,  which  is  even  better ;  this 
time  there  will  be  no  Genoese.  I  am  already 
consoled." 

After  having  read  "  Venice  Preserved  "  and 
admired  the  union  of  Pierre  and  Jaffier,  Balzac 
says  that  he  began  to  consider  the  peculiar 
virtues  of  those  who  are  thrown  outside  of  the 
social  order,  —  the  honesty  of  the  galleys,  the 
fidelity  of  robbers,  and  the  privileges  of  that 
enormous  power  which  these  men  obtain  in 
fusing  all  ideas  into  one  supreme  will,  —  and 


112  Balzac. 

concluded  that,  man  being  greater  than  men, 
society  should  belong  entirely  to  those  whose 
brilliancy,  intelligence,  and  wealth  could  be 
joined  in  a  fanaticism  warm  enough  to  melt 
their  different  forces  into  a  single  jet.  An 
occult  power  of  this  description,  he  argued, 
would  be  the  master  of  society ;  it  would  re- 
verse obstacles,  enchain  desires,  and  give  to 
one  the  superhuman  power  of  all ;  it  would  be 
a  world  within  a  world,  admitting  none  of  its 
ideas,  recognizing  none  of  its  laws  ;  it  would 
be  a  league  of  filibusters  in  yellow  gloves  and 
dogcarts,  who  could  at  all  times  be  ready  to 
devote  themselves  in  their  entirety  to  any  one 
among  them  who  should  require  their  united 
aid. 

This  novel  conception  was  not  only  the  mo- 
tif of  the  "  Histoire  des  Treize,"  but  no  sooner 
was  the  book  completed  than  Balzac,  in  accord- 
ance with  his  mania  for  living  his  characters,  at- 
tempted to  reproduce  it  in  real  life,  —  or  rather, 
in  the  other  life,  for  his  true  world  was  the  one 
which  he  carried  in  his  brain,  —  and  without 
difficulty  recruited  for  this  purpose  Jules  San- 
deau,  L6on  Gozlan,  Laurent  Jan,  Gerard  de 
Nerval,  Merle,  Alphonse  Karr,  and  Granier  de 
Cassagnac. 

The  aim  of  the  association,  which  he  ex- 
plained with  that  tumultuous  eloquence  for 
which  he  was  famous  and  which  silenced  every 


The  Chase  for  Gold.  113 

objection,  was  simply  to  grasp  the  leading- 
strings  of  the  principal  newspapers,  invade  the 
theatres,  take  seats  in  the  Academic,  and  be- 
come millionaires  and  peers  of  France.  When 
any  one  of  them  produced  a  book  or  a  play, 
the  others  were  to  write  about  it,  talk  about  it, 
and  advertise  it  generally,  until  its  success  was 
assured  3  and  as  nothing  succeeds  like  suc- 
cess, a  good  commencement  was  all  that  was 
needed  to  insure  an  easy  and  glorious  ascent. 

The  project  was  enthusiastically  received  and 
unanimously  approved.  The  society  was  en- 
titled the  "Cheval  Rouge,"  and  Balzac  was 
elected  chief. 

In  order  to  avoid  suspicion,  it  was  agreed 
that  in  public  the  members  should  not  appear 
to  know  each  other,  and  Karr  relates  that  for 
a  long  time  Balzac  would  pretend,  whenever  he 
saw  him,  that  they  met  for  the  first  time,  and 
would  communicate  with  him  only  in  an  actor's 
aside.  The  meetings  of  the  society  were  pre- 
arranged by  the  chief.  The  notices  consisted 
of  a  card,  on  which  was  painted  a  red  horse, 
and  the  words,  stable,  such  a  day,  such  a 
place  ;  in  order  to  make  it  still  more  fantastic, 
the  place  was  changed  each  time. 

This  project,  which  of  course  resulted  in 
nothing,  and  which  was  soon  abandoned,  was 
none  the  less  practicable,  and  minus  the  myste- 
rious farce  with  which  it  was  surrounded  has 
8 


114 


Balzac. 


since,  in  many  instances,  been  put  into  success- 
ful operation. 

Through  one  of  those  psychical  phenomena 
which  generate  within  us  a  diversity  of  sen- 
timent while  uniting  their  contradictory  ele- 
ments, Balzac  was  tortured  by  a  combined  dis- 
taste and  affection  for  journalism.  It  possessed 
a  morbid  attraction  for  him  ;  and  while  he  exe- 
crated the  entire  profession,  he  longed  none  the 
less  for  an  editor's  chair,  from  which  he  could 
bombard  his  enemies  at  his  ease,  and  glean 
at  the  same  time  the  rich  harvest  which  a  suc- 
cessful review  invariably  produces. 

The  foundation  of  a  journal,  however,  is 
money,  more  money,  always  money ;  and  Bal- 
zac, who  was  rich  only  in  unrecognized  audac- 
ity and  unquoted  talent,  after  having  tried  in 
every  way  to  acquire  the  necessary  capital,  was 
about  to  abandon  his  scheme  as  hopeless,  when 
Providence  in  the  form  of  a  young  man  passed 
the  sentries  and  entered  his  room. 

"  M.  de  Balzac  ? " 

And  Balzac,  to  whom  every  stranger  was  a 
dun,  replied,  "  It  is,  sir,  and  it  is  not ;  it  de- 
pends." 

"  I  am  looking  for  the  author  of  *  La  Peau  du 
Chagrin.' " 

"  Ah  !  then,  I  am  he." 

"  Sir,"  said  the  youth,  "  I  understand  that 
you  are  about  to  edit  a  journal,  and  I  have 


The  Chase  for  Gold.  115 

come  to  ask  for  the  position  of  theatrical  critic. 
I  would  also  like  to  write  the  fashion  article." 

Balzac,  furious  at  the  intrusion  and  indig- 
nant at  the  youth's  proposition  to  collaborate 
in  a  journal  whose  appearance  was  prevented 
by  lack  of  funds,  was  about  to  order  the  young 
man  out,  when  he  suddenly  noticed  that  he  was 
clothed  in  the  most  expensive  manner. 

"  May  I  ask  whom  I  have  the  honor  of  ad- 
dressing ? "  inquired  the  ogre,  with  his  most  se- 
ductive smile. 

"  I  am  the  son  of  M.  Chose,  the  banker." 

Balzac  became  very  fascinating.  "I  thought 
so,  —  I  thought  so  from  the  first ;  you  look  like 
him.  Will  you  not  sit  down  ?  As  we  were 
saying,  I  am  about  to  edit  the  '  Chronique  de 
Paris,'  whose  appearance,  so  impatiently  await- 
ed, I  have  delayed  only  that  its  success  might 
be  the  better  assured.  And  did  I  understand 
you  to  say  that  you  would  like  to  take  charge 
of  the  theatrical  criticisms  ? " 

"Yes,  indeed,  sir,  if  you  think  me  capable." 

"  Capable  ?  Do  I  think  you  capable  ?  Why, 
all  the  more  capable,  as  it  is  unusual  for  a 
banker's  son  to  wish  to  enter  a  purely  literary 
association.  The  blood  of  a  financier  is  sel- 
dom inclined  to  "  .  .  . 

"I  do  not  care  for  letters  of  credit,  M.  de 
Balzac.     I  care  for  letters,  simply." 

"  Adorable  witticism  ! "  cried  Balzac,  illumi- 


Ii6  Balzac. 

nated  with  hope.  "  And  you  care,  then,  for  lit- 
erature, in  spite  of  the  immense  fortune  which 
you  enjoy  ?  " 

"  I  expect  ten  millions  more,"  interrupted 
the  youth. 

"Ten  millions  !  "        / 

"  Rather  more  than  less,  M.  de  Balzac." 

"Nothing  could  be  better  or  more  oppor- 
tune," smiled  this  courtesan  of  wealth,  reduced 
to  adulating  an  idiot.  "  I  was  just  wondering 
whom  I  should  select.  The  position  is  yours. 
No,  no ;  it  is  for  me  to  thank  you.  My  best 
regards  to  your  dear  father." 

The  youth  had  barely  turned  the  corner 
when  Balzac  hastily  summoned  the  members 
of  the  "  Cheval  Rouge." 

"  At  last  I  have  a  capitalist !  "  he  cried.  "  He 
has  promised  nothing,  it  is  true,  but  I  have  rea- 
son to  believe  that,  properly  managed,  he  will 
invest  anywhere  from  a  hundred  thousand  up. 
He  is  an  idiot,  the  son  of  Chose  the  banker. 
He  wants  to  be  dramatic  critic,  and  that  means 
money,  simply  money,  and  lots  of  it.  But,"  he 
continued,  "  the  affair  cannot  be  arranged  with- 
out a  subtle  preparation  and  solemn  initiation, 
and  preparation  and  initiation  mean  dinner. 
It  is  at  a  dinner,  not  frugal  but  sumptuous, 
adorned  with  a  garland  of  editors  and  critics, 
each  more  seductive  than  the  other,  that  the 
alliance  of  your  intelligence  and  the  money  of 


The  Chase  for  Gold.  117 

my  imbecile  will  be  consummated ;  and  then, 
with  the  champagne  in  his  throat,  he  will  tell 
us  how  much  he  proposes  to  pour  into  the  till 
of  the  'Chronique  de  Paris.'  It  has  not  got 
one  yet,  to  be  sure,  but  we  will  buy  one  as  soon 
as  he  furnishes  the  money." 

"  But  there  will  be  about  twenty  of  us,"  ob- 
jected De  Nerval,  "  and  the  dinner  will  cost  at 
least  four  hundred  francs.  Where  are  they  ? 
Have  you  got  them  ?  " 

"  No,  but  I  will  find  them,"  Balzac  answered, 
with  a  magnificent  gesture.  "  It  is  not  a  ques- 
tion of  a  dinner  in  a  restaurant,  for  that  would 
smack  of  the  adventurer  a  mile  away ;  and  be- 
sides, there  of  course  you  pay  cash.  The  ban- 
quet shall  be  served  here,  and  on  credit.  We 
have  only  to  inspire  some  caterer  with  sufficient 
confidence." 

"  Charming,"  said  Merle,  as  he  looked  about 
the  poorly  furnished  apartment ;  "  but  how  is 
that  sufficiency  of  confidence  to  be  inspired  ? " 

After  innumerable  propositions  had  been 
discussed  and  rejected,  Balzac  discovered  that 
Granier  de  Cassagnac  had  a  service  of  silver 
in  pawn  for  eight  hundred  francs,  and  pre- 
vailed on  Gautier  to  borrow  a  like  amount,  dis- 
engage the  silver,  which,  negligently  exposed 
on  Balzac's  table,  would  inspire  confidence  in 
any  caterer ;  promising  that  after  the  dinner 
the  silver  should  be  immediately  repawned  and 
the  loan  repaid. 


Ii8  Balzac.  • 

"  My  plan  is  triumphant !  "  he  exclaimed ; 
"  the  money  is  ours.  To-morrow  we  will  liberate 
the  silver.  Tuesday,  conference  with  the  caterer. 
Wednesday,  invitation  on  vellum  launched  at 
our  young  capitalist ;  the  same  evening,  solemn 
engagement  on  his  part  to  invest,  accompanied 
on  ours  by  the  most  hilarious  toasts.  Thurs- 
day, contract  drawn  by  a  notary  and  signed  by 
the  delicate  hand  of  our  millionaire.  Friday, 
reunion  and  tea,  to  read  over  the  prospectus, 
which  I  will  compose.  Saturday,  colossal  ad- 
vertisement on  every  wall,  monument,  and  col- 
umn ;  and  the  week  after,  brilliant  apparition  on 
the  Parisian  horizon  of  the  first  number.  Sol- 
diers !  to  arms !  " 

This  programme,  joyously  arranged,  was  fear- 
lessly carried  out.  The  silver  was  liberated, 
the  caterer  inspired  with  confidence,  the  invi- 
tation accepted,  and  after  a  sumptuous  repast 
Balzac,  glass  in  hand,  arose  and  addressed  the 
company  as  follows  :  — 

"  Gentlemen,  you  are  all  aware  of  the  ob- 
ject for  which  we  have  assembled  this  even- 
ing about  the  liberal  and  gracious  guest  here 
seated  at  my  right.  It  is  the  creation  of  a  pub- 
lication destined  to  assume,  thanks  to  him  and 
to  his  munificent  intelligence,  an  unexception- 
able position  among  the  reviews  of  the  century. 
Although  I  have  not,  to  my  great  regret,  been 
possessed  of  sufiicient  leisure  to  cultivate  as 


The  Chase  for  Gold.  1 19 

I  should  have  desired  this  rare  intelligence, 
which  has  been  called  not  only  to  fecundate 
our  own,  but  also  to  assist  us  in  spreading  the 
fruits  of  our  genius  over  a  world  which  awaits 
them,  and  which,  I  may  confidently  state,  would 
never  know  them  save  for  the  generous  and 
effective  assistance  of  our  guest,  I  may  never- 
theless be  permitted  to  say  to  what  extent  he 
has,  in  momentary  confidences,  permitted  me 
to  foresee  treasuries  of  encouragement  and 
rich  rewards.  I  do  not  fear,  therefore,  to  say 
that  the  *  Chronique  de  Paris  '  will  owe  to  him 
its  existence,  its  splendor,  and  its  popularity. 
Were  my  emotion  not  so  great  and  so  real,  I 
would  speak  at  greater  length  of  the  future  of 
our  cherished  and  illustrious  publication  ;  but 
I  prefer,  in  begging  you,  in  honor  of  our  guest, 
to  join  your  toasts  to  mine,  to  leave  the  floor 
to  him,  that  he  may  explain  what  in  his  gen- 
erosity he  proposes  to  do  for  the  *  Chronique 
de  Paris,'  at  once  happy  and  proud  to  possess 
him  as  protector  and  patron." 

Then,  lowering  his  voice  to  one  of  simple  po- 
liteness, Balzac  turned  to  his  guest,  and  said, 
"  Be  good  enough,  my  dear  young  friend,  to 
explain  what  your  liberal  intentions  are." 

"  Gentlemen,"  the  banker's  son  replied,  "  I 
will  talk  it  over  with  papa." 

Balzac  grew  white  as  the  table-cloth,  but, 
magnificent  in  his  defeat,  hardly  had  the  pseu- 


I20  Balzac. 

do-capitalist  disappeared  than  he  exclaimed, 
with  an  accent  which  might  have  unsettled  des- 
tiny itself,  "  It  is  daylight ;  let  us  repawn  the 
silver!"  1 

Partly  for  the  sake  of  solitude,  and  partly  to 
affect,  for  business  purposes,  an  appearance 
of  luxury,  Balzac,  in  1837,  built  a  villa  at  Ville 
d'Avray,  which  he  named  Les  Jardies,  as  a 
reminiscence  of  the  days  when  Louis  XIV. 
lounged  at  Versailles. 

It  consisted  of  but  three  rooms,  or  rather 
three  stories.  The  ground  floor,  the  rez-de- 
chausske,  was  the  reception-room,  the  second 
the  study,  and  the  third  the  bedroom. 

When  the  architect's  plan  was  first  submit- 
ted, the  staircase  greatly  interfered  with  the 
dimensions  of  the  rooms,  and  Balzac,  exasper- 
ated at  this  impertinence,  ordered  it  out  of  the 
house,  and  caused  it,  by  way  of  punishment, 
to  climb  in  spiral  solitude  about  the  outer 
wall. 

This  little  eccentricity  gave  to  his  parrot's 
cage  the  appearance  of  having  been  trans- 
planted from  some  old  Hanseatic  or  Flemish 
town,  and  satisfied  at  the  same  time  his  pro- 
prietary pride. 

At  a  little  distance  was  another  habitation, 

^  H.  de  Balzac,  by  Eugene  de  Mirecourt.  H.  de  Balzac, 
by  Armand  Bashet.  Balzac  en  Fantou/les,  by  Leon  Goz- 
Ian. 


The  Chase  for  Gold.  121 

in  which  the  kitchen  and  servants'  rooms  were 
situated ;  and  the  whole  establishment  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  high  wall,  which,  being  built  on 
the  incline  of  a  hillock,  was  devastated  by 
every  storm,  and  fell  five  times  into  his  neigh- 
bor's grounds  ;  until  Balzac,  wearied  by  con- 
stant summons  and  complaints,  bought  the 
surrounding  property,  that  his  cherished  wall 
might  lie  at  ease  where  it  chose. 

The  interior  of  Les  Jardies  was  fully  in  keep- 
ing with  the  character  of  its  owner.  The  re- 
ception-room was  but  scantily  furnished,  and 
the  bare  walls  were  ornamented  with  a  promise 
of  Gobelin  tapestry  traced  in  charcoal. 

On  the  ceiling  was  written,  "  Fresco  by  De- 
lacroix." On  the  wall  of  his  study  he  wrote, 
"  Here  is  a  regal  Venetian  mirror,"  while  a  cor- 
ner of  his  bedroom  assured  the  visitor  that  he 
was  looking  at  one  of  Raphael's  priceless  Ma- 
donnas. 

In  this  way  Balzac  furnished  his  home  with 
magnificent  dreams,  while  he  dined,  perhaps, 
as  did  that  creation  of  Dickens,  who  cut  his 
bread  into  imaginary  omelets,  and  sliced  it  into 
tenderloins. 

Before  Balzac's  advent,  the  plot  of  ground 
on  which  Les  Jardies  was  built  had  been  a 
vineyard,  on  which  the  warm  sun  had  lain  all 
day,  and  ripened  the  clustering  grapes.  The 
knowledge  of  this  fact  preoccupied  him  greatly. 


122  Balzac. 

If  grapes  had  grown  there,  he  argued,  why 
should  not  anything  else  ?  Why  should  not 
pine-apples  ? 

Now  pine-apples  were  dear  in  Paris,  costing 
from  ten  to  fifteen  francs  apiece ;  and  no 
sooner  did  this  idea  present  itself  than  it  was 
grappled,  seized,  and  caressed  by  Balzac,  who 
immediately  saw  an  annual  harvest  of  an  hun- 
dred thousand  pine-apples,  which  had  bloomed 
in  hot-houses  as  yet  unbuilt. 

These  pine-apples  would,  he  thought,  sell  at 
least  for  five  francs  apiece  ;  the  attendant  ex- 
penses could  not  be  over  a  hundred  thousand 
francs  ;  and  by  a  simple  mathematical  process, 
with  which  no  one  was  more  familiar,  he  fore- 
saw a  princely  revenue  of  four  hundred  thou- 
sand francs  more. 

These  four  hundred  thousand  francs  danced 
with  such  charm  and  grace  before  him  that  he 
lost  no  time  in  looking  for  a  shop  in  which  to 
sell  his  unplanted  fruit.  He  soon  found  a  suit- 
able one  on  the  Boulevard  Montmartre,  which 
he  would  have  immediately  hired,  painted  in 
black  and  yellow,  and  decorated  with  an  enor- 
mous sign,  bearing  for  epigraph  Pine-apples 
from  Les  Jardies,  had  he  not  been  forcibly  dis- 
suaded by  friends  less  enthusiastic  than  he. 

In  this  way  scheme  succeeded  scheme,  and 
one  project  was  abandoned  only  for  another. 
His  latest  idea  he  always  considered  his  best, 


The  Chase  for  Gold.  123 

unless  he  was  agreed  with,  when  he  would  re- 
verse all  his  arguments  to  prove  that  a  pre- 
cedent one  was  better  still.  At  one  time  he 
thought  that  through  a  mathematical  combina- 
tion he  had  discovered  a  system  which  would 
enable  him  to  break  the  bank  at  Baden ;  at  an- 
other he  proposed  to  cut  down  a  forest  in  Po- 
land, and  supply  Paris  with  timber,  and  would 
have  done  so  had  not  his  brother-in-law  proved 
to  him  that  the  expenses  for  transportation 
would  far  exceed  any  possible  profit. 

To  make  money,  to  become  a  millionaire,  and 
to  lead  the  life  of  a  prince  was  his  constant  aim 
and  ambition. 

"  The  life  of  an  artist,"  he  said,  "  should  be 
a  succession  of  splendors ; "  and  while  he  de- 
tested Dumas,  he  secretly  admired  his  Oriental 
magnificence  and  envied  his  prodigal  luxury. 
But  while  the  firm  of  Dumas  and  Company 
was  manufacturing  novels  by  the  dozen,  Balzac 
was  engaged  in  weighing  a  phrase  and  occu- 
pied with  its  corrections  ;  while  Dumas  never 
so  much  as  glanced  at  the  proof-sheets  of  his 
feuilletons,  Balzac's  were  not  only  carefully 
corrected,  but  the  attendant  expenses  were,  by 
agreement,  charged  to  him;  and  where,  as  in 
the  case  of  "  Pierrette,"  he  was  obliged  to  pay, 
for  the  corrections  three  hundred  francs  more 
than  he  received  for  the  story  itself,  it  will  be 
readily  understood  that  the  amounts  which  he 


124  "     Balzac. 

earned  by  his  pen  were  not  always  as  satisfac- 
tory as  could  have  been  desired. 

In  this  respect,  however,  it  should  be  stated 
that  while  the  money  which  he  earned  in  his 
later  years  was  out  of  all  proportion  to  that 
which  he  at  first  received,  yet,  in  the  mean 
time,  some  few  debts  had  necessarily  accumu- 
lated, and  his  income,  consequently  reduced, 
averaged  at  best  not  more  than  ten  or  twelve 
thousand  francs. 

The  history  of  his  financial  troubles,  and  of 
that  which  he  laughingly  termed  his  floating 
debt,  can  best  be  found  in  his  correspondence, 
which,  ranging  from  his  twentieth  year  to  but  a 
few  days  prior  to  his  death,  contains  many  de- 
tails of  the  thirty  years'  war  which  he  waged 
with  poverty ;  and  his  letters,  while  interesting 
in  their  account  of  his  transient  successes,  at- 
tendant struggles,  defeats,  and  final  victory, 
will  convince  even  the  prejudiced  reader,  that 
the  writer  was,  in  the  first  place,  a  man  of  the 
strictest  integrity ;  for  it  may  be  said,  without 
exaggeration,  that  the  better  part  of  his  life 
was  passed  in  attempting  to  satisfy  that  ne- 
cessity whose  earthly  representatives  are  cred- 
itors ;  secondly,  that  his  morals  were  perfectly 
pure,  for  he  loved  and  reverenced  women  with 
that  amor  intelledualis  which  made  chastity  to 
him  one  of  those  graces  which  are  superflui- 
ties to  the  vulgar  and  necessities  to  the  re- 


The  Chase  for  Gold.  125 

fined  ;  and  thirdly,  that  his  heart,  which  was 
as  great  as  his  brain,  was  yet  too  full  of  affec- 
tion for  those  whom  he  loved  to  harbor  malice 
against  his  detractors  and  persecutors. 

The  earliest  of  these  letters,  the  majority  of 
which  are  addressed  to  his  sister,  or  to  Madame 
Zulma  Carraud,  one  of  her  intimate  friends,  are 
mere  descriptions  of  his  life  and  poverty,  and 
are  expressed  with  the  smiling  indifference  of 
youth,  to  whom  the  shadows  of  the  future  are 
yet  vague  and  distant. 

"  Since  you  are  so  much  interested  in  all 
that  I  do,"  he  wrote  from  Paris  to  his  sister,  in 
1819,  "you  must  know  that  last  night  I  slept 
magnificently ;  and  how  could  I  do  otherwise  ? 
I  dreamed  of  you,  of  mother,  of  my  loves,  of 
my  hopes,  and  now,  on  awakening,  I  give  you 
my  earliest  thoughts.  I  must  tell  you,  in  the 
first  place,  that  that  wretch,  Myself,  becomes 
more  and  more  negligent.  He  goes  but  twice 
a  week  for  provisions,  and  then,  being  econom- 
ical even  of  his  steps,  always  to  the  nearest, 
and  consequently  to  the  worst,  shops  in  the 
neighborhood  ;  hence,  your  brother,  destined 
to  such  celebrity,  is  already  nourished  like  any 
other  great  man,  which  means  that  he  is  dy- 
ing of  hunger." 

To  his  sister,  in  the  following  year,  he 
wrote,  — 

"  I  feel  to-day  that  wealth  does  not  consti- 


126  Balzac. 

tute  happiness,  and  that  my  life  here  will  be 
to  me  always  a  source  of  the  sweetest  remem- 
brances. "  To  live  as  I  choose ;  to  work  when 
I  will,  and  after  my  own  manner ;  to  do  noth- 
ing, even,  if  I  so  desire  ;  to  fall  asleep  in  a 
beautiful  future ;  to  think  of  you,  and  to  know 
that  you  are  happy  ;  to  possess  the  Julie  of 
Rousseau  for  mistress.  La  Fontaine  and  Mo- 
liere  for  friends,  Racine  for  master,  and  Pere- 
Lachaise  for  promenade  !  .  .  .  Oh,  could  it  but 
last  forever ! " 

And  a  little  later,  — 

"  I  have  just  returned  from  Pbre-Lachaise, 
where  I  have  been  inhaling  magnificent  in- 
spirations. Decidedly,  the  only  beautiful  epi- 
taphs are  such  as  these,  La  Fontaine,  Moliere, 
Masskna,  —  a  single  name  which  tells  all,  and 
makes  the  passer  dream  !  "  .  .  . 

The  next  year  he  wrote,  — 

"  Dear  Sister,  —  I  am  going  to  work  like 
the  horse  of  Henri  IV.  before  it  was  cast  in 
bronze;  and  this  year  I  hope  to  make  the 
twenty  thousand  francs  which  are  to  commence 
my  fortune.  I  have  a  quantity  of  novels  and 
dramas  to  prepare.  ...  In  a  little  while  there 
will  be,  between  the  me  of  to-day  and  the  me 
of  to-morrow,  the  difference  that  exists  be- 
tween the  boy  of  twenty  and  the  man  of  thirty. 
I  reflect ;  my  ideas  ripen  ;  and  I  see  that  in  giv- 
ing to  me  the  heart  and  head  which  I  possess 


The  Chase  for  Gold,  127 

Nature  has  treated  me  with  favor.  Believe  in 
me,  dear  sister ;  for  while  I  do  not  despair  of 
being  something,  some  day,  I  yet  have  need 
of  a  believer.  I  see  now  that  '  Cromwell ' 
had  not  even  the  merit  of  an  embryo.  As  to 
my  novels,  they  are  as  poor  as  the  devil, 
though  not  half  so  seductive." 

But  when,  later  on,  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
seven,  Balzac  found  himself  without  position, 
without  a  profession,  entirely  unknown,  with- 
out resources,  and  burdened,  moreover,  with 
a  debt  of  120,000  francs,  —  the  result  of  his 
disastrous  experience  as  printer  and  publisher, 
—  he  had  but  his  pen  with  which  to  conquer 
poverty  and  combat  the  world.  His  family 
had  no  faith  in  him  ;  they  had  sunk  a  large 
sum  in  his  enterprise  ;  he  was  friendless,  and 
his  genius  was  entirely  unrecognized ;  and  it 
is  at  once  curious  and  pathetic  to  note  through 
the  rest  of  his  correspondence  the  continued 
recurrence  and  repetition  of  his  dream  of  pro- 
spective fortune  and  freedom  from  debt. 

His  first  letters  after  his  disaster  are  pro- 
foundly sad  :  in  one  he  wrote  to  his  sister,  — 

"  I  must  live  without  asking  aid  of  any  one. 
I  must  live  to  work,  that  I  may  repay  you  all  \ 
but  shall  I  be  able  to  live  long  enough  to  pay 
my  debts  of  love  and  gratitude  as  well  ? " 

To  the  Duchesse  d'Abrant^s,  in  the  same 
year,  he  wrote,  — 


128  Balzac. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  have  ever  experienced  tlie 
extent  to  which  misfortunes  develop  within 
us  the  terrible  faculty  of  breasting  a  tempest, 
and  of  opposing  to  adversity  an  immobile  calm. 

"  As  for  myself,  I  have  acquired  the  habit  of 
smiling  at  the  torments  of  fate,  —  torments  that 
still  continue. 

"  I  am  old  in  suffering,  but  my  light-hearted 
appearance  offers  no  criterion  of  my  age.  I 
have  never  been  otherwise  ;  I  have  been  al- 
ways bent  beneath  a  terrible  weight.  Nothing 
can  give  you  an  idea  of  the  life  which  I  have 
led,  nor  of  my  astonishment  at  having  nothing 
but  fortune  to  combat. 

"  Were  you  to  inquire  about  me,  you  would 
be  unable  to  obtain  any  insight  to  the  nature 
of  my  misfortunes  ;  but  then  you  know  there  are 
those  who  die  without  any  apparent  disease.  .  .  . 

"  I  have  undertaken  two  books  at  a  time,  to 
say  nothing  of  a  number  of  articles.  The  days 
evaporate  in  my  hands  like  ice  in  the  sunlight. 
I  do  not  live ;  I  waste  away ;  but  death  from 
work  or  from  any  other  cause  amounts  to  the 
same  thing  in  the  end.  ...  I  sleep  from  six  in 
the  evening  until  midnight,  and  then  I  work 
for  sixteen  hours.  I  have  but  one  hour  of  lib- 
erty, and  that  during  dinner.  I  have  sworn  to 
owe  nothing,  and  though  I  die  like  a  dog  my 
courage  will  support  me  to  the  end." 

In  1831,  he  wrote  to  the  same  lady, — 


The  Chase  for  Gold.  129 

"  You  do  not  know  that  in  1828  I  had  but 
my  pen  with  which  to  live  and  pay  off  120,000 
francs.  In  a  few  months  I  shall  be  free  from 
debt,  and  be  able  to  arrange  a  comfortable 
home.  During  the  next  six  months,  therefore, 
I  shall  enjoy  my  last  miseries.  I  have  asked 
aid  from  no  one.  I  have  never  stretched  my 
hand,  either  for  a  page  or  a  sou.  I  have  hid- 
den my  griefs  and  my  wounds,  and  you  who 
know  how  difficult  it  is  to  make  money  with  the 
pen  will,  with  your  feminine  glance,  be  able  to 
sound  the  depths  of  the  abyss  which  I  disclose 
to  you,  and  by  the  side  of  which  I  have  marched 
without  falling." 

In  the  following  year,  he  wrote  to  his  moth- 
er,— 

"  Sooner  or  later,  literature,  politics,  journal- 
ism, marriage,  or  some  good  speculation  will 
make  my  fortune." 

And  later  on,  — 

"  Thank  you,  my  sister ;  you  have  restored  to 
me  that  energy  which  has  been  my  sole  support. 
Yes,  you  are  right.  I  will  not  stop ;  I  will  con- 
tinue to  advance,  and  some  day  you  will  see 
mine  counted  among  the  great  names  of  our 
country.  .  .  .  My  books  are  the  only  replies 
which  I  shall  make  to  those  who  commence  to 
attack  me.  Do  not  let  their  criticisms  annoy 
you :  they  are  the  best  of  auguries  ;  mediocrity 
is  never  discussed.  Tell  my  mother  that  I  love 
9 


130  Balzac. 

her  as  I  did  when  a  child.  The  tears  fall  from 
my  eyes  as  I  write  these  lines,  —  tears  of  tender- 
ness and  of  despair,  for  I  feel  my  future  near 
at  hand,  and  in  my  days  of  triumph  my  mother 
will  be  a  necessity.  When  will  they  come  ? 
As  to  you  and  to  your  husband,  I  can  only  hope 
that  you  will  never  doubt  my  heart,  and  if  I  do 
not  write  to  you  let  your  tenderness  be  indul- 
gent. Do  not  misjudge  my  silence,  but  say, 
rather,  '  He  thinks  of  us,  he  is  speaking  to  us  ; ' 
for,  after  my  long  meditations  and  overwhelm- 
ing duties,  I  rest  in  your  hearts  as  in  some 
delicious  spot  where  there  is  no  pain." 

In  the  same  year,  from  Aix,  he  wrote  to  his 
mother,  — 

"  I  shall  not  return  to  Paris  until  all  my  en- 
gagements are  fulfilled  ;  when  I  do  so  every- 
thing will  have  been  paid  off." 

In  1833,  to  Madame  Carraud,  — 

"  My  life  is  mechanically  changed.  I  go  to 
sleep  with  the  chickens  and  am  called  at  one  in 
the  morning.  I  then  work  until  eight  o'clock, 
sleep  for  an  hour,  and  at  nine  I  take  a  cup  of 
pure  coffee,  and  remain  in  harness  until  four.  I 
then  take  a  bath,  and  go  out,  and  after  dinner 
return  to  bed.  Profit  is  slow,  and  debts  are 
inexorable,  but  I  am  certain  now  of  immense 
wealth.  I  have  but  to  wait  and  work  for  three 
years." 

In  the  following  year,  he  wrote,  — 


The  Chase  for  Gold.  131 

"  The  fiascos  of  the  '  Medecin  de  Campagne  ' 
and  *  Louis  Lambert '  have  affected  me  deeply, 
but  I  am  resolved  that  nothing  shall  discourage 
me.  After  the  ist  of  August  I  think  that  I 
shall  be  free." 

And  later  on,  in  the  same  year,  — 
"  If  I  but  live,  I  shall  have  a  beautiful  posi- 
tion, and  we  will  all  be  happy.     Let  us  laugh 
then  still,  my  sweet  sister ;  the  house  of  Balzac 
will  triumph  yet." 

To  his  mother  he  wrote,  — 
"  The  day  when  we  shall  all  be  happy  rap- 
idly approaches.     I  begin  to  gather  the  fruit 
of  the  sacrifices  which  I  made  for  the  sake 
of  future  prosperity.     In  a  few  months  I  will 
bring  to  you  the  ease  and  comfort  which  you 
need.  .  .  .  Oh,  my  dear  mother,  you  will  yet 
live  to  see  my  beautiful  future ;  for,  in  the  end, 
everything  must  bend  beneath  the  work  of  him 
who  loves  you,  and  is  your  devoted  son." 
In  183  s  he  wrote  to  Werdet,  his  publisher, — 
"  Some  day,  —  and  that  day  rapidly  advances, 
—  we  shall  both  have  made  our  fortune ;  and 
the  sight  of  our  carriages  meeting  in  the  Bois 
will  make  our  enemies  swoon  with  envy." 
To  his  mother,  in  the  same  year,  he  wrote,  — 
"  Do  not  be  vexed  at  my  silence.     I  not  only 
have  a  great  deal  to  do,  but  I  work  twenty- 
one  hours  and  a  half  daily.     A  letter  is  not 
only  a  loss  of  money,  but  an  hour's  sleep  and 
a  drop  of  blood." 


132  Balzac. 

To  Madame  Hanska  he  wrote,  — 

"  That  you  may  know  the  extent  of  my  cour- 
age, I  must  tell  you  that  the  '  Secret  des  Rug- 
gieri '  was  written  in  one  night,  '  La  Vieille 
Fille  '  in  three,  and  *  La  Perle  Brisee,'  which 
terminates  'L'Enfant  Maudit,'  was  composed 
in  a  few  hours  of  mental  and  physical  agony. 
It  is  my  Brienne,  my  Champaubert,  my  Mont- 
mirail.     It  is  my  campaign  in  France." 

And  to  Madame  Carraud,  — 

"  I  sleep  but  five  hours,  and  work  eighteen. 
I  shall  purchase  the  Grenadiere,^  and  pay  my 
debts.  I  need  at  least  a  year  to  be  completely 
free  from  debt,  but  the  happiness  of  owing  noth- 
ing, which  I  thought  impossible,  is  no  longer  a 
chimera." 

In  October,  1836,  he  wrote  to  Madame 
Hanska,  — 

"  You  do  not  know  the  depths  of  my  grief, 
nor  the  sombre  courage  which  accompanies 
the  second  great  defeat  which  I  have  experi- 
enced.*^ The  first  occurred  when  I  was  barely 
twenty-nine  ;  and  then  I  had  an  angel  at  my 
side,*  To-day  I  am  too  old  to  inspire  a  senti- 
ment of  inoffensive  protection.  ...  I  am  over- 
come, but  not  conquered.     My  courage  yet  re- 

1  A  villa  on  the  Loire. 

2  The  disastrous  result  of  his  lawsuit  with  the  Revue 
des  Deux  Mondes. 

3  Madame  de  Berny,  a  devoted  friend. 


The  Chase  for  Gold.  133 

mains.  .  .  .  During  the  past  month,  I  have 
worked  from  midnight  until  six  in  the  evening ; 
and  while  I  have  observed  the  strictest  diet, 
that  my  brain  might  not  be  troubled  by  the 
fatigue  of  digestion,  nevertheless,  I  not  only 
suffer  from  indescribable  weaknesses,  but  I  also 
experience  nervous  attacks  of  the  most  singu- 
lar character.  I  sometimes  lose  the  sense  of 
verticality,  and  even  in  bed  it  seems  as  though 
my  head  fell  to  the  right  or  to  the  left ;  and 
when  I  attempt  to  get  up  I  am  as  though 
weighed  down  by  an  enormous  burden,  which 
seems  to  be  in  my  brain.  I  understand  now 
how  Pascal's  absolute  continence  and  exces- 
sive brain  work  caused  him  continually  to  see 
an  abyss  about  him,  and  obliged  him  to  sit 
between  two  chairs.  .  .  .  But  if  I  do  not  suc- 
cumb in  the  mean  time,  two  years  of  work  will 
suffice  for  the  payment  of  everything." 

To  the  same  lady,  two  years  later,  he  wrote,  — 
"  I  am  thirty-nine  years  old,  and  I  owe  two 
hundred  thousand  francs.     Belgium  has  stolen 
a  million  from  me,"  ^ 

In  1838  he  wrote  to  Madame  Carraud,  — 
"  I  have  greater  faith  than  ever  in  my  work. 
I  have  been  offered  twenty  thousand  francs  for 
a  play.  Hereafter,  I  shall  devote  my  time  to 
the  theatre  ;  books  no  longer  pay.  .  .  .  You 
have  no  idea  how  happy  I  shall  be  in  a  few 
years.     My  gains  will  be  enormous." 

^  An  allusion  to  the  pirated  rtd'tioQS  of  his  works. 


134  Balzac. 

A  few  months  later  he  wrote,  — 

"  My  debts  and  money  troubles  are  the 
same  as  ever,  but  my  courage  has  redoubled 
with  the  decrease  of  my  desires,  ...  I  hope 
to  remain  here  ^  for  three  or  four  months,  and 
then,  if  my  plays  succeed,  it  may  be  that  over 
and  above  my  debts  I  shall  have  gained  suf- 
ficient capital  to  supply  my  daily  bread,  my 
flowers,  and  my  fruits.  The  rest,  perhaps,  will 
come  with  time." 

Continually  overthrown,  but  never  conquered, 
in  his  letters  during  the  next  eight  years  he 
seems  to  breathe  the  delicious  idea  of  De  Cus- 
tine,  that  hope  is  the  imagination  of  those 
who  are  unhappy.  In  May,  1846,  however,  he 
wrote  to  his  sister,  — 

"  A  series  of  terrible  and  unbelievable  dis- 
asters have  happened  to  me.  I  am  entirely 
without  money,  and  am  being  sued  by  those 
who  were  friendly  to  me.  ...  I  shall  have  to 
work  eighteen  hours  a  day." 

These  terrible  and  unbelievable  disasters 
were  the  result  of  a  debt  of  ten  thousand  francs, 
which  he  owed  to  William  Duckett,  the  editor 
of  the  "Dictionnaire  de  la  Conversation,"  who, 
being  in  difficulties  himself,  was  obliged  not 
only  to  sue  Balzac,  but  to  obtain  an  order  for  his 
arrest.  Balzac,  however,  was  not  to  be  found. 
No  trace  of  him  was  to  be  had  at  Passy,  nor  at 
1  At  Les  Jardies. 


The  Chase  for  Gold.  135 

any  of  his  several  habitations,  which,  though 
secret  to  the  world  at  large,  were  necessarily 
known  to  the  police.  One  day,  however,  a  wo- 
man, whose  advances  to  Balzac  had  not  been 
met  with  that  degree  of  cordiality  which  she 
had  doubtless  expected,  called  upon  Duckett, 
and  told  him  that  Balzac  was  to  be  found  at 
the  residence  of  Madame  Visconti,  on  the 
Champs-^filys^es. 

In  an  hour  the  house  was  surrounded,  and 
Balzac,  interrupted  in  the  middle  of  a  chapter, 
was  Informed  that  a  cab  awaited  him  at  the 
door.  Madame  Visconti,  with  a  hospitality 
which  was  simply  royal,  asked  the  amount  of 
the  debt,  and  paid  the  ten  thousand  francs  on 
the  spot.  A  few  days  later  Balzac  wrote  to 
Madame  Hanska,  — 

"  You  can  form  no  idea  of  the  life  of  a  hunted 
hare  which  I  have  led.  Two  years  of  calm  and 
tranquillity  are  absolutely  necessary  to  soothe 
my  spirit,  worn  by  sixteen  years  of  successive 
catastrophes.  I  am  tired,  very  tired,  of  this 
incessant  struggle.  My  last  debts  are  more 
irksome  than  all  the  others  which  I  have  paid." 

But  now  in  regard  to  these  debts,  to  the  pay- 
ment of  which  he  $eems  to  have  devoted  his 
life,  it  is  only  natural  to  ask  in  what  they  con- 
sisted and  whence  they  came  :  for  they  became 
as  famous  as  Balzac  himself  j  they  followed  him 
about  like  a  glittering  retinue,  and  found  their 


136  Balzac. 

way  not  only  into  his  correspondence,  but  into 
his  romances,  and  supplied  him  with  a  subject 
of  conversation  of  which  he  never  tired. 

Balzac,  as  has  been  seen,  wished  to  be  con- 
sidered as  much  of  a  Monte  Cristo  as  Dumas 
himself,  and  could  not,  without  causing  his  pen 
to  blush,  permit  it  to  be  believed  that  he  did  not 
extract  from  his  books  the  same  magnificent 
harvest  which  was  annually  reaped  by  his  rival. 
The  debt  of  120,000  francs  which  had  crippled 
his  early  manhood  was,  with  his  habitual  pro- 
bity, soon  wiped  out ;  but  the  remembrance  of 
it  remained,  and  this  remembrance,  joined  to 
the  annoyance  caused  by  a  few  creditors,  sug- 
gested an  innocent  deceit  which  would  explain 
why  he  did  not  live  in  a  palace  and  enjoy  the 
splendors  of  a  literary  monarch.  He  imagined, 
therefore,  and  caused  it  to  be  understood  that 
he  was  not  only  immensely  in  debt,  but  that 
the  sums  which  he  owed  were  fabulous ;  and  he 
talked  of  them,  wrote  of  them,  and  increased 
them  to  such  an  extent  that  it  was  not  long  be- 
fore they  became  even  more  celebrated  than 
the  prodigalities  of  his  confrere. 

His  debts,  however,  both  real  and  imaginary, 
were  finally  paid,  and  their  liquidation  was  the 
climax  of  the  solitary  romance  of  his  life. 

About  the  year  1835,  he  became  acquainted 
with  the  Countess  Hanska,  a  Polish  lady,  of 
great  beauty  and  immense  wealth,  whose  hus» 


The  Chase  for  Gold.  137 

band  was  an  invalid.  It  has  been  stated  —  on 
what  authority  it  has  been  difficult  to  discover 
—  that  when  she  accidentally  met  the  author  of 
the  "  Com^die  Humaine  "  her  emotion  was  so 
great  that  she  lost  consciousness.  The  better 
opinion,  however,  would  be  that  a  correspon- 
dence, begun  on  her  side  after  the  publication 
of  the  "  Medecin  de  Campagne,"  a  work  which 
she  greatly  admired,  was  continued  for  a  num- 
ber of  years  before  they  finally  met.  Balzac 
paid  several  visits  to  her  Polish  estates,  and  it 
is  probable  that  she  frequently  came  to  Paris. 
After  her  husband's  death  marriage  was  natu- 
rally thought  of,  but  for  the  time  being  there 
were  many  obstacles  :  Balzac's  pecuniary  posi- 
tion was  most  unfortunate,  while  she,  as  a  Rus- 
sian subject,  was  not  in  a  position  to  marry  off- 
hand. 

The  winter  of  1848,  as  well  as  the  spring  of 
the  following  year,  Balzac  passed  at  Vierzschov- 
nia,  with  Madame  Hanska  and  her  children. 
He  was  wretchedly  ill,  and  the  physicians  had 
forbiden  any  kind  of  mental  labor.  Incessant 
work  and  the  abuse  of  coffee  had  seriously  un- 
dermined his  constitution  and  shattered  his 
nerves  of  steel,  but  the  day  to  which  he  had 
looked  with  such  constant  expectation  had  at 
last  arrived :  his  debts  were  not  only  paid,  but 
the  revenues  from  the  sale  of  his  books  were 
magnificent. 


138  Balzac. 

For  some  little  time  he  had  been  preparing 
In  the  Rue  Fortune'e  —  now  Rue  Balzac  —  a 
superb  residence.  His  taste  in  furniture  and 
works  of  art  found  ample  expression  there. 
For  one  set  of  Florentine  workmanship  the 
king  of  Holland  himself  was  in  treaty,  while 
his  art  gallery  was  the  same  as  is  described  in 
"Le  Cousin  Pons." 

While  he  was  in  Poland  his  mother  was  his 
general  agent,  and  he  wrote  to  her  the  most 
minute  directions  of  everything  appertaining 
to  the  house,  its  fixtures  and  decorations  ;  and 
finally,  on  the  17th  March,  1850,  he  wrote  from 
Vierzschovnia  as  follows  :  — 

"  Three  days  ago  I  married  the  only  woman 
whom  I  have  loved,  whom  I  love  more  than 
ever,  and  whom  I  shall  love  until  death.  I  be- 
lieve that  this  union  is  the  recompense  that 
God  has  held  in  reserve  for  me  through  so 
many  adversities,  years  of  work,  and  difficulties 
suffered  and  overcome.  My  youth  was  unhappy 
and  my  spring  was  flowerless,  but  I  shall  have 
the  most  brilliant  summer  and  the  sweetest  of 
autumns." 

Balzac  had  now  fulfilled  his  two  immense 
desires  :  he  was  celebrated,  he  was  beloved. 
His  own  income  combined  with  that  which  re- 
mained to  his  wife  —  she  had,  at  his  instance, 
made  over  the  greater  portion  of  her  fortune 
to  her  children  —  sufficed  for  the  realization 


The  Chase  for  Gold.  1 39 

of  his  most  extravagant  dreams.  "  I  shall 
live  to  be  eighty,"  he  said.  "  I  will  terminate 
the  *  Comedie  Humaine  '  and  write  dozens  of 
dramas.  I  will  have  two  children,  —  not  more ; 
two  look  well  on  the  front  seat  of  a  landau." 
It  was  all  too  beautiful ;  nothing  remained  but 
death,  and  five  months  after  his  marriage,  on 
the  20th  of  August,  1850,  after  thirty  years  of 
ceaseless  toil,  at  the  very  moment  when  the 
world  was  his,  Balzac,  as  a  finishing  touch  to 
his  own  "  ;^tudes  Philosophiques,"  died  sud- 
denly of  disease  of  the  heart. 

At  his  grave  in  Pere-Lachaise  is  a  simple 
monument,  bearing  for  epitaph  that  *'  single 
name  which  tells  all  and  makes  the  passer 
dream  ;"  and  here,  at  the  very  spot  where  Ra- 
stignac,  after  the  burial  of  Pbre  Goriot,  hurled 
his  supreme  defiance  at  Paris,  Victor  Hugo 
delivered  the  funeral  oration. 

"  Alas ! "  he  said,  "  this  powerful  and  tireless 
worker,  this  philosopher,  this  thinker  and  poet, 
whose  existence  was  filled  with  more  labors 
than  days,  passed  among  us  that  life  of  strug- 
gles and  combats  common  in  all  time  to  all 
great  men.  To-day,  at  last,  he  is  at  peace  :  he 
has  taken  leave  of  contests  and  hatreds,  and 
enters  now  both  glory  and  the  tomb.  Here- 
after he  will  shine  above  all  the  clouds  about 
us,  high  among  the  stars  of  our  country." 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   THINKER. 
"  Un  dcrivain  doit  se  regarder  comme  un  instituteur  des  hommes.* 

—  BONALD. 

Balzac,  to  borrow  a  Hindu  expression,  was 
*'  an  artificer  who  built  like  a  giant  and  fin- 
ished like  a  jeweler."  The  groundwork  of 
the  "  Comddie  Humaine "  was  grandly  con- 
ceived and  admirably  executed  ;  and  though  a 
few  of  the  balconies  of  its  superb  superstruc- 
ture are  incomplete,  yet  as,  happily,  master- 
pieces are  ever  eternally  young,  it  shows  no 
signs  of  decay,  and  there  is  little  danger  of  its 
falling  in  ruins. 

For  the  decoration  of  this  work,  Balzac 
brought  a  subtle  analysis  of  men,  women,  and 
things,  and  adorned  it  all  with  brilliant  ideas 
and  profound  reflections,  of  which  the  saddest 
were  dug  from  his  own  sufferings,  and  not,  as 
a  great  writer  has  said,  from  the  hearts  of  his 
mistresses. 

As  everything  that  he  wrote  is  more  or  less 
worthy  of  attention,  a  complete  collection  of 
his  theories  and  teachings  would  be  as  impos- 


The  Thinker.  141 

sible,  as  an  arrangement  of  Emerson's  best 
thoughts,  and  in  any  event  would  ill  befit  the 
unpretentious  character  of  this  treatise.  For 
his  elaborate  monographs  on  religion,  morality, 
society,  politics,  science,  and  art,  the  reader 
must  turn  to  the  complete  edition  of  his  writ- 
ings; for  in  these  pages  the  attempt  will  be 
made  to  render  only  a  handful  of  unsorted 
aphorisms  and  reflections,  taken  at  random, 
of  which  the  majority  will  be  found  to  touch 
merely  upon  every-day  topics,  and  that  in  the 
lightest  possible  vein. 

With  this  brief  explanation,  for  which  your 
indulgence  is  requested,  the  crier  gives  way  to 
the  thinker. 

A  woman  is  to  her  husband  that  which  her 
husband  has  made  her. 

It  is  still  a  question,  both  in  politics  and 
marriage,  whether  empires  are  overthrown  and 
happiness  destroyed  through  over-confidence 
or  through  too  great  severity. 

A  husband  risks  nothing  in  affecting  to 
believe  his  wife,  and  in  patiently  holding  his 
tongue.  Of  all  things,  silence  worries  a  wo- 
man most. 

It  is,  perhaps,  only  those  who  believe  in  God 
who  do  good  in  secret. 

Statesmen,  thinkers,  men  who  have  com- 
manded armies,  —  in  a  word,  those  who   are 


142  Balzac. 

really  great,  —  are  natural  and  unaffected,  and 
their  simplicity  places  one  at  once  on  an  equal- 
ity with  them. 

Comprehension  is  equality. 

Discussion  weakens  all  things. 

Genius  is  intuition. 

The  most  striking  effects  of  art  are  but 
rough  counterfeits  of  nature. 

To  the  despair  of  man,  he  can  do  nothing, 
either  for  good  or  for  evil,  but  that  which  is  im- 
perfect. His  every  work,  be  it  intellectual  or 
physical,  is  stamped  with  the  mark  of  destruc- 
tion. 

Avarice  begins  where  poverty  ends. 

Dignity  is  but  the  screen  of  pride ;  from  be- 
hind it  we  rage  at  our  ease. 

There  are  certain  rich  organizations,  on 
whom  the  extremes  of  happiness  and  misery 
produce  a  soporific  effect. 

The  most  natural  sentiments  are  those  which 
are  acknowledged  with  the  greatest  repugnance. 

The  first  requisite  of  revenge  is  dissimula- 
tion.    An  avowed  hatred  is  powerless. 

It  is  in  the  nature  of  women  to  prove  the  im- 
possible by  the  possible,  and  to  destroy  facts 
with  presentiments. 

Power  does  not  consist  in  striking  hard  and 
often,  but  in  striking  with  justice. 

To  stroll  about  the  streets  is  in  itself  a  sci- 
ence ;  it  is  the  gastronomy  of  the  eye. 


The  Thinker.  143 

Nowadays,  to  be  hopelessly  in  love,  or  to 
be  wearied  of  life,  constitutes  social  position. 

Love  is  immense,  but  it  is  not  infinite,  while 
science  has  limitless  depths. 

Prosperity  brings  with  it  an  intoxication, 
which  inferior  natures  never  resist. 

It  is  but  the  heart  that  does  not  age. 

The  graces  of  manner  and  conversation  are 
gifts  of  nature,  or  the  fruit  of  an  education  be- 
gun at  the  cradle. 

As  soon  as  a  misfortune  occurs,  some  friend 
or  other  is  always  ready  to  tell  us,  and  to  run  a 
dagger  into  our  hearts,  while  expecting  us  to 
admire  the  handle. 

It  is  frequently  at  the  very  moment  when 
men  most  despair  of  their  future  that  their 
fortune  begins. 

To  talk  of  love  is  to  make  love. 

A  married  woman  is  a  slave  who  needs  a 
throne. 

The  grandeur  of  desires  is  in  proportion  to 
the  breadth  of  the  imagination. 

A  husband  who  leaves  nothing  to  be  desired 
is  lost. 

There  is  no  greater  incentive  to  life  than 
the  conviction  that  our  death  would  bring  hap- 
piness to  others. 

Where  there  is  no  self-respect  solitude  is 
hateful. 

A  lover  has  all  the  virtues  and  all  the  de- 
fects that  a  husband  has  not. 


144  Bahac. 

The  more  one  judges  the  less  one  loves. 

Chance  is  the  great  romancer ;  to  be  prolific 
one  has  but  to  study  it. 

Grief  as  well  as  pleasure  has  its  initiation. 

Apart  from  the  comedian,  the  prince,  and 
the  cardinal,  there  is  a  man  at  once  prince  and 
comedian,  —  a  man  robed  in  magnificent  vest- 
ments. I  speak  of  the  poet,  who  appears  to  do 
nothing,  yet  who  reigns  above  humanity  when 
he  has  known  how  to  depict  it. 

Woman's  virtue  is  perhaps  a  question  of 
temperament. 

To  live  by  the  pen  is  a  labor  which  galley- 
slaves  would  refuse ;  they  would  prefer  death. 
To  live  by  the  pen  consists  in  creating,  —  cre- 
ating to-day,  to-morrow,  forever,  ...  or  to  ap- 
pear to,  and  the  appearance  costs  as  much  as 
the  reality. 

I  have  never  seen  a  badly  dressed  woman 
who  was  agreeable  and  good-humored. 

A  woman's  instinct  is  equivalent  to  the  per- 
spicacity of  the  wise. 

In  France,  a  witticism  is  to  be  heard  on  the 
scaffold  as  well  as  at  the  barricades,  and  some 
Frenchman  or  other  will,  I  am  sure,  joke  at  the 
general  sessions  of  the  last  judgment. 

All  soldiers  look  alike. 

In  love,  chance  is  the  providence  of  wo- 
men. 

Literature  and  politics  are  to  women  to-day 


The  Thinker.  145 

that  which  religion  was  to  them  formerly,  — 
the  last  asylum  of  their  pretensions. 

True  sentiments  are  magnetic. 

Misfortune  creates  in  certain  natures  a  vast 
desert,  which  reechoes  with  the  voice  of  God. 

It  is  from  the  shock  of  characters,  and  not 
from  conflict  of  ideas,  that  antipathies  are  born. 

When  intelligent  men  begin  to  explain  their 
dispositions  or  give  the  key  to  their  hearts  they 
are  most  assuredly  drunk. 

There  are  but  few  moral  wounds  which  soli- 
tude cannot  cure. 

When  a  woman  is  no  longer  jealous  of  her 
husband  the  end  is  come ;  she  no  longer  loves 
him.  Conjugal  affection  expires  in  her  last 
quarrel. 

A  woman  who  is  guided  by  her  head,  and  not 
by  her  heart,  is  a  terrible  companion  :  she  has 
all  the  defects  of  a  passionate  woman,  with  none 
of  her  good  qualities;  she  is  without  mercy, 
without  love,  without  virtue,  without  sex. 

The  revelation  of  chastity  in  man  is  inex- 
pressibly radiant. 

Misery  is  a  tonic  to  some  ;  to  others  it  is  a 
dissolvent. 

A  woman  who  has  a  lover  becomes  very  in- 
dulgent. 

Power  is  clement,  it  is  open  to  conviction, 
it  is  just  and  undisturbed ;  but  the  anger  en- 
gendered by  weakness  is  pitiless. 
10 


146  Balzac. 

Monomanias  are  not  contagious ;  but  where 
the  insanity  lurks  in  constant  discussions  and 
in  the  manner  in  which  things  in  general  are 
regarded,  then  it  may  become  so. 

One  of  the  misfortunes  to  which  great  minds 
are  subjected  is  that  they  are  forced  to  under- 
stand all  things,  —  vices  as  well  as  virtues. 

Beauty  is  like  nobility :  it  cannot  be  acquired. 

Nothing  good  is  to  be  expected  of  those 
who  acknowledge  their  faults,  repent,  and  then 
sin  again.  The  truly  great  acknowledge  their 
faults  to  no  one,  but  they  punish  themselves 
accordingly. 

Do  not  fear  to  make  enemies,  —  unfortunate 
is  he  who  has  none  ;  but  try  to  give  no  cause 
for  ridicule,  and  avoid  the  appearance  of  evil. 

There  is  as  much  mud  in  the  upper  ranks  of 
society  as  in  the  lower,  but  in  the  former  it  is 
gilded. 

The  most  superb  vengeance  is  the  disdain  of 
one  at  hand. 

Laws  are  not  always  so  cruel  as  are  the 
usages  of  the  world. 

Historians  are  privileged  liars,  who  lend  their 
pen  to  popular  beliefs  in  the  same  manner  that 
our  newspapers  express  but  the  sentiments  of 
their  readers. 

A  lover  is  a  herald  who  proclaims  a  woman's 
merit,  beauty,  or  wit.  What  does  a  husband 
proclaim  ? 


The  Thinker.  147 

A  woman's  real  physiognomy  does  not  begin 
until  she  is  thirty.  Up  to  that  age,  the  painter 
finds  in  her  face  but  pink  and  white,  and  a  rep- 
etition of  the  uniform  and  depthless  smiles  of 
love  and  youth. 

Science  consists  in  imitating  nature. 

Through  a  peculiar  mental  contraction,  wo- 
men see  only  the  defects  in  a  man  of  talent, 
and  in  a  fool  but  his  good  qualities. 

Love  may  be  heard  in  the  voice  before  it  is 
seen  in  the  eyes. 

The  heart  of  a  woman  of  twenty-five  is  as 
little  like  that  of  a  girl  of  eighteen  as  the  heart 
of  a  woman  of  forty  is  like  that  of  a  woman  of 
thirty :  each  age  creates  a  new  woman. 

Love  has  its  escutcheon. 

Man  clings  to  life  in  proportion  to  its  infamy : 
it  is  then  a  protestation,  a  vengeance  of  every 
moment. 

Glory  is  the  deification  of  egotism. 

He  who  foresees  a  bright  future  marches 
through  the  miseries  of  existence  like  an  inno- 
cent man  led  to  the  scaffold.  He  knows  not 
shame. 

The  slow  execution  of  works  of  genius  de- 
mands either  a  ready  fortune  or  a  cynical  in- 
difference to  poverty. 

No  man  can  flatter  himself  that  he  knows  a 
woman  and  makes  her  happy  until  he  sees  her 
continually  at  his  feet. 


148  Balzac. 

The  Orientals  sequestrate  their  women.  A 
woman  who  loves  should  sequestrate  herself, 

A  cornice  is  the  sweetest,  the  most  submis- 
sive, the  most  indulgent  confidant  that  a  wo- 
man can  find  when  she  does  not  dare  to  look 
her  interlocutor  in  the  face.  The  cornice  of  a 
boudoir  is  an  institution.  It  is  a  confessional 
minus  the  priest. 

True  love  appears  in  but  one  of  two  ways : 
either  at  first  sight,  which  is  doubtless  an  effect 
of  second  sight ;  or  else  in  the  gradual  fusion  of 
two  natures,  which  is  the  realization  of  Plato's 
androgyne. 

A  mother's  heart  is  an  abyss  in  whose  depths 
forgiveness  is  always  to  be  found. 

The  practice  of  religion  sometimes  causes  a 
mental  ophthalmia. 

Life  is  made  up  of  varied  accidents,  of  al- 
ternating griefs  and  joys.  Dante's  Paradise, 
that  changeless  blue  and  sublime  expression 
of  the  ideal,  is  to  be  found  but  in  the  soul ;  and 
to  demand  it  from  the  actualities  of  existence 
is  a  luxury  against  which  nature  hourly  pro- 
tests. 

It  is  despair,  not  hope,  which  gives  the  real 
measure  of  our  ambitions.  We  give  ourselves 
up  in  secret  to  the  beautiful  poems  of  hope, 
but  grief  stands  before  us,  unveiled. 

The  most  ordinary  and  respectable  of  men 
will,  when  with  others,  try  to  appear  the  rake. 


The  Thinker,  149 

Human  justice  is,  I  think,  the  development 
of  the  thought  which  floats  through  space- 
Through  an  inexplicable  phenomenon,  there 
are  many  who  have  hope,  but  are  lacking  in 
faith.  Hope  is  the  flower  of  desire;  faith  is 
the  fruit  of  certainty. 

A  petty  work  engenders  pride,  while  mod- 
esty is  born  of  great  achievements. 

The  problem  of  eternal  beatitude  is  one 
whose  solution  is  known  but  to  God.  Here 
below,  poets  bore  their  readers  to  death  with 
their  pictures  of  Paradise. 

It  costs  more  to  satisfy  a  vice  than  to  feed 
a  family. 

A  husband  should  never  permit  himself  to 
say  anything  against  his  wife  in  the  presence  of 
a  third  person. 

Love  prefers  contrasts  to  similitudes. 

The  sentiment  of  wrong  doing  is  in  propor- 
tion to  the  purity  of  the  conscience,  and  an  act 
which  to  one  is  barely  a  fault  will  assume  to 
another  the  dimensions  of  a  crime. 

Woman  lives  by  sentiment,  where  man  lives 
by  action. 

Probity,  like  virtue,  should  be  divided  into 
two  classes  :  to  wit,  negative  and  positive.  The 
former  would  refer  to  those  who  are  honest  so 
long  as  no  occasion  to  enrich  themselves  is  of- 
fered ;  while  the  latter  would  refer  to  those  who 
face  temptation  and  resist  it. 


1 50  Balzac. 

Woman,  as  a  rule,  feels,  enjoys,  and  judges 
successively;  hence,  three  distinct  periods,  of 
which  the  last  coincides  with  the  melancholy 
approach  of  old  age. 

A  lover  is  never  in  the  wrong. 

Distrust  a  woman  who  speaks  of  her  virtue. 

In  love,  there  is  nothing  so  persuasive  as 
courageous  stupidity. 

Weak  natures  are  reassured  as  easily  as  they 
are  alarmed. 

The  most  incurable  wounds  are  those  which 
are  made  by  the  tongue  or  the  eye,  by  mockery 
or  by  disdain. 

To  two  lovers  the  rest  of  the  world  is  but 
landscape. 

Expiation  is  not  obliteration. 

A  virtuous  woman  has  a  fibre  more  or  a  fibre 
less  than  other  women.  She  is  stupid  or  sub- 
lime. 

Language  in  the  magnificence  of  its  phases 
has  nothing  as  varied  and  as  eloquent  as  the 
correspondence  of  the  eyes  and  the  harmony  of 
smiles. 

The  slave  has  his  vanities ;  he  would  prefer 
to  obey  only  the  greatest  of  despots. 

Customs  are  the  hypocrisies  of  nations. 

It  is  not  enough  for  a  man  to  be  honest ;  he 
must  appear  so. 

If  a  man  is  superstitious  he  is  never  thor- 
oughly miserable.    A  superstition  is  a  hope. 


The  Thinker.  151 

Expressionless  beauty  is  an  imposture. 

A  lack  of  taste  in  dress  is  a  defect  insepara- 
ble from  a  false  conception  of  religion. 

It  is  more  difficult  to  explain  the  difference 
which  exists  between  those  who  are  swell  and 
those  who  are  not  than  it  is  for  those  who  are 
not  to  efface  the  difference. 

If  a  man  is  clever  he  will  appear  at  once  to 
yield  to  a  woman's  whim,  and  then,  while  sug- 
gesting a  reason  or  two  for  its  non-execution, 
he  will  leave  to  her  the  right  of  changing  her 
mind  as  often  as  she  chooses. 

A  woman  who  is  happy  does  not  go  into  so- 
ciety. 

Love  is  not  simply  a  sentiment ;  it  is  an  art. 

Doubt  has  two  faces,  of  which  one  turns  to 
the  light,  and  the  other  to  darkness. 

A  husband  should  never  fall  asleep  first  nor 
wake  up  last. 

That  expression  of  peace  and  serenity,  which 
sculptors  give  to  the  faces  which  are  intended 
to  represent  Justice  and  Innocence  is  a  young 
girl's  greatest  charm ;  if  it  is  assumed,  girlhood 
is  dead  within  her. 

In  the  lower  classes  women  are  not  only  su- 
perior to  men,  but,  as  a  rule,  govern  them  com- 
pletely. 

To  forestall  the  desires  of  a  lover  is  a  fault 
in  women  which  few  men  forgive.  The  major- 
ity of  them  see  but  degradation  in  this  celestial 
flattery. 


152  Balzac. 

When  a  love-letter  is  so  well  written  that  it 
■would  afford  pleasure  to  any  third  person  who 
might  read  it,  it  emanates  most  assuredly  from 
the  brain,  and  not  from  the  heart. 

It  takes  an  old  woman  to  read  an  old  wo- 
man's face. 

It  is  easier  to  be  a  lover  than  a  husband,  for 
the  same  reason  that  it  is  more  difficult  to  be 
witty  every  day  than  now  and  then. 

The  woman  who  has  laughed  at  her  husband 
can  love  him  no  longer.  A  man  should  be  to 
the  woman  who  loves  him  a  being  full  of 
force  and  greatness,  and  continually  imposing. 
Households  cannot  last  without  despotism. 
Nations,  reflect  upon  it ! 

A  man  seldom  passes  without  remorse  from 
the  position  of  confidant  to  that  of  rival. 

When  two  women  could  kill  each  other,  and 
each  sees  a  poisoned  dagger  in  the  other's 
hand,  they  present  a  picture  of  harmony  which 
is  touching  and  untroubled  until  one  of  them 
accidentally  drops  her  weapon. 

Study  is  so  motherly  and  good  that  it  is  al- 
most a  sin  to  ask  of  it  other  rewards  than  the 
pure  and  sweet  delights  with  which  it  nourishes 
its  children. 

We  must  handle  many  lamps  of  Aladdin  be- 
fore  we  find  that  the  real  one  is  chance,  or  la- 
bor, or  genius. 

In  the  life  of  every  woman  there  is  a  mo- 


The  Thinker.  153 

ment  when  she  understands  her  destiny,  and  in 
which  her  organization,  hitherto  dumb,  speaks 
authoritatively.  It  is  not  always  a  man  who 
wakes  this  sixth  and  sleeping  sense ;  it  may  be 
an  unexpected  spectacle,  a  landscape,  some- 
thing she  has  just  read,  a  religious  ceremony,  a 
concert  of  natural  flowers,  the  caressing  notes 
of  a  strain  of  music ;  in  a  word,  some  unex- 
pected movement  of  the  soul  or  body. 

However  malicious  a  man  may  be,  he  can 
never  say  anything  worse  of  women  than  they 
think  of  themselves. 

One  may  be  both  a  great  man  and  a  wicked 
one,  as  one  may  be  a  fool  and  a  perfect  lover. 

The  ancients  were  right  in  their  worship  of 
beauty.  Has  not  some  traveler  or  other  told 
us  that  wild  horses  choose  the  most  beautiful 
among  them  for  leader  ?  Beauty  is  the  spirit 
of  all  things.  It  is  the  seal  which  Nature  has 
placed  on  her  most  perfect  creations.  It  is  the 
truest  of  symbols,  and  the  one  the  most  rarely 
encountered.  Who  has  ever  thought  of  a  de- 
formed angel  ? 

We  allow  others  to  elevate  themselves  above 
us,  but  we  never  forgive  those  who  refuse  to 
descend  to  our  level. 

The  customs  of  every  class  of  society  are 
more  or  less  alike,  and  differ  only  in  degrees. 
High  life  has  a  slang  of  its  own,  but  its  slang 
is  termed  "  style." 


154  Balzac. 

A  fact  worthy  of  notice  is  the  extent  to  which 
we  make  engagements  with  ourselves,  and  the 
manner  in  which  we  create  our  own  lot  in  life. 
Chance  has  assuredly  not  so  much  to  do  with 
it  as  we  think. 

The  weakest  of  thinking  creatures  is  wounded 
in  that  which  is  most  dear  when  performing, 
at  the  command  of  another,  that  which  would 
have  been  done  unordered ;  and  the  most 
odious  of  all  tyrannies  is  that  which  continually 
divests  of  intention  the  merit  of  its  actions  and 
thoughts.  The  word  which  is  the  easiest  to 
pronounce  and  the  sentiment  which  is  the  sweet- 
est to  express  dies  within  us  when  we  feel  that 
it  is  commanded.  We  abdicate  without  having 
reigned. 

The  art  of  marriage,  as  of  literature,  consists 
solely  in  graceful  transitions. 

Events  are  never  absolute.  Their  results 
depend  entirely  on  the  individual.  Misfortune 
is  a  stepping-stone  to  genius,  a  treasure  to  the 
adroit,  but  to  the  weak  an  abyss. 

To  forget  is  the  great  secret  of  strong  and 
creative  lives,  —  to  forget  utterly,  after  the  man- 
ner of  Nature,  who  knows  no  past,  and  who 
each  hour  recommences  the  mysteries  of  her 
indefatigable  parturitions.  It  is  the  weak  who 
live  with  grief,  and  who,  instead  of  changing  it 
into  apothegms  of  existence,  toy  and  saturate 
themselves  therewith,  and  retrograde  each  day 
to  consummated  misfortunes. 


The  Thinker.  155 

There  are  incommensurable  differences  be- 
tween the  man  who  mingles  with  others  and 
him  who  dwells  with  nature.  Once  captured, 
Toussaint  Louverture  died  without  uttering  a 
word,  while  Napoleon,  on  his  rock,  chattered 
like  a  magpie  ;  he  wished  to  explain  himself. 

Man  has  a  horror  of  solitude,  and  of  all  soli- 
tudes the  purely  moral  is  the  most  terrible. 
The  early  anchorites  lived  with  God.  They 
dwelt  in  the  spiritual  world,  which  is  the  most 
populous  of  all.  Misers  inhabit  a  world  of 
fantasy  and  delight ;  for  the  miser  has  every- 
thing, even  to  his  sex,  in  his  brain.  Man's  first 
thought,  then,  be  he  leper  or  galley-slave,  is  to 
find  an  accomplice  to  his  destiny.  To  the  sat- 
isfaction of  this  aim,  which  is  life  itself,  he  em- 
ploys all  his  strength  and  all  his  power.  With- 
out this  sovereign  desire,  could  Satan  have 
found  companions  ? 

Solitude  is  inhabitable  only  by  the  man  of 
genius,  who  peoples  it  with  ideas,  or  by  the 
contemplator  of  the  universe,  who  sees  it  illu- 
minated by  the  light  of  heaven  and  animated 
by  the  voice  of  God.  To  others  solitude  is  to 
torture  as  the  mind  is  to  the  body.  It  is  suf- 
fering multiplied  by  the  infinite. 

The  moral  of  all  things  has  puddles,  from 
which  the  world's  dishonored,  as  they  drown, 
throw  mud  on  others. 

The  study  of  the  mysteries  of  thought,  the 


1 56  Balzac. 

discovery  of  the  organs  of  the  soul,  the  geom- 
etry of  the  forces,  the  phenomena  of  its  power, 
the  appreciation  of  the  faculty  which  we  seem 
to  possess  of  moving  independently  of  the 
body,  —  in  a  word,  the  laws  of  its  dynamics, 
and  those  of  its  physical  influence  will  con- 
stitute the  coming  centuries'  glorious  share  in 
science. 

We  are  obliged  to  accept  the  ideas  of  the 
poet,  the  picture  of  the  painter,  the  statue  of  the 
sculptor  ;  but  we  all  of  us  interpret  music  ac- 
cording to  our  grief  or  our  happiness,  our 
hopes  or  our  despair.  Where  other  arts  circle 
our  thoughts,  and  fix  them  on  a  determined  ob- 
ject, music  sends  them  flitting  over  the  expanses 
of  nature  which  it  has  the  power  to  depict. 

Thought  is  the  key  to  every  treasure.  It 
brings  to  us  a  miser's  joy  without  his  cares. 

There  is  not  a  forest  without  its  significance, 
not  a  high-way  nor  a  by-way  which  does  not 
present  analogies  with  the  labyrinth  of  human 
thought.  What  man,  whose  mind  is  cultivated 
or  whose  heart  has  suffered,  ever  walked  in  a 
forest  that  the  forest  did  not  speak  to  him  t 
Insensibly  there  arises  a  voice,  either  consoling 
<GX  terrible,  and  often  consoling  and  terrible. 
If  the  cause  of  the  grave  and  mysterious  sensa- 
tion which  then  seizes  him  be  sought,  it  will  be 
found,  I  think,  in  the  sublime  spectacle  of  crea- 
tures obeying  the  destinies  to  which  they  are 


The  Thinker.  157 

immutably  subjected.  Sooner  or  later  an  over- 
whelming sentiment  of  the  permanence  of  na- 
ture fills  the  heart,  and  the  thought  turns  irre- 
sistibly to  God. 

The  more  illegal  the  gain,  the  greater  its 
attraction.     Such  is  the  heart  of  man. 

An  out-and-out  criminal  rarely  exists,  for 
there  are  few  among  us  who  do  not  permit 
themselves  one  or  two  good  actions,  at  least. 
Be  it  from  curiosity,  from  pride,  for  the  sake 
of  contrast,  or  by  accident,  every  man  has  had 
his  moment  of  kindliness  and  benevolence. 

When  we  condemn  a  fellow  creature  in  re- 
fusing to  him  forever  our  esteem,  we  have  but 
ourselves  to  rely  on  ;  and  even  so,  have  we  the 
right  to  make  our  hearts  a  tribunal,  and  sum- 
mon our  neighbor  there  ?  Where  would  the 
law  be,  in  what  would  the  measure  of  judg- 
ment consist  ?  That  which  is  our  weakness 
is  perhaps  his  strength.  To  so  many  differ- 
ent beings  so  many  different  circumstances 
for  each  act,  for  no  two  occurrences  are  ever 
the  same.  Society  alone  has  the  right  to  re- 
press its  members.  As  to  punishment,  I  con- 
test it ;  the  curb  is  sufficient,  and  cruel  enough 
at  that. 

The  genius  is  he  who  perpetually  impresses 
his  deeds  with  his  thought. 

When  a  man  feels  that  he  is  destined  to 
great  things,  it  is  difficult  for  him  to  conceal 


158  Balzac. 

it.  The  bushel  has  always  crevices  through 
which  the  light  must  pass. 

Women  of  the  world  have  a  marvelous  tal- 
ent for  diminishing  their  faults.  They  can  ef- 
face anything  with  a  smile,  a  question,  or  a 
feigned  surprise.  They  remember  nothing,  and 
explain  everything;  they  become  astonished, 
ask  questions,  criticise,  amplify,  quarrel,  and 
wind  up  by  chasing  their  faults  away,  as  easily 
as  they  would  a  spot  with  a  bit  of  soap.  You 
know  them  to  be  black,  and  in  a  moment  they 
have  become  white  and  innocent.  As  for  you, 
consider  yourself  lucky  if,  in  the  mean  time, 
they  have  not  found  you  guilty  of  some  unpar- 
donable sin. 

The  fortune  of  a  new  word  is  made  when  it 
answers  to  a  class  of  men  or  things  which  oth- 
erwise could  not  be  described  without  peri- 
phrasis. 

One  of  the  most  important  rules  in  the  sci- 
ence of  manners  is  that  you  preserve  an  al- 
most absolute  silence  concerning  yourself. 
Play  the  comedy,  some  day,  of  speaking  of 
your  own  interests  to  ordinary  acquaintances, 
and  you  will  see  feigned  attention  swiftly  fol- 
lowed by  indifference,  and  then  by  weariness, 
until  every  one  has  found  a  pretext  for  leaving 
you.  But  if  you  wish  to  group  about  you  the 
sympathies  of  all,  and  to  be  considered  a  charm- 
ing and  agreeable  fellow,  talk  to  them  of  them- 


The  Thinker.  159 

selves,  seek  some  way  of  bringing  each  into 
action  in  turn;  then  they  will  smile  at  you, 
think  well  of  you,  and  praise  you  when  you 
are  gone. 

There  is  no  ease  in  the  gestures  of  a  soul- 
less woman. 

Instincts  are  implacable.  If  we  disobey 
them  we  are  punished.  There  is  one  in  par- 
ticular which  the  animal  obeys  unhesitatingly  : 
it  is  the  one  which  commands  us  to  avoid  the 
person  who  has  once  injured  us,  whether  the 
injury  was  intentional  or  accidental.  The 
creature  that  lias  harmed  us  once  will  be 
always  harmful :  whatever  his  rank  may  be, 
however  nearly  he  may  be  related  to  us,  break 
with  him  at  once  ;  he  is  an  envoy  of  our  evil 
genius. 

Pnidence  consists  in  never  threatening;  in 
facilitating  an  enemy's  retreat ;  in  not  treading, 
as  the  proverb  has  it,  on  the  serpent's  tail ;  and 
in  avoiding,  as  one  would  a  murder,  an  injury 
to  the  self-esteem  of  an  inferior.  However 
damaging  to  one's  interest  an  act  may  be,  in 
the  long  run  it  is  overlooked  and  explained  in 
a  thousand  different  ways  ;  but  wounded  pride 
bleeds  always,  and  never  forgives. 

When  two  people  are  constantly  together, 
hatred  and  love  grow  apace  ;  every  moment 
brings  a  new  reason  for  stronger  affection  01 
increased  detestation. 


l6o  Balzac. 

Love  and  hate  are  sentiments  which  feed  on 
themselves,  but  of  the  two  hate  is  the  stronger. 
Love  is  limited ;  its  strength  comes  of  life  and 
prodigality.  But  hate  is  like  death ;  it  is  in  one 
sense  an  active  abstraction  ;  it  subsists  above 
men  and  things. 

To  invent  is  lingering  death ;  to  copy  is  to 
live. 

If  men  were  frank,  they  would  acknowledge 
that  misfortune  has  never  taken  them  entirely 
unawares,  nor  without  first  sending  to  them 
some  visible  or  occult  warning.  Many  have 
not  understood  the  meaning  of  these  myste- 
rious monitions  until  after  the  shipwreck. 

A  singular  fascination  attaches  to  celebrity, 
however  acquired,  and  it  would  seem  that  with 
women,  as  formerly  with  families,  the  glory  of 
a  crime  effaced  the  shame.  As  certain  fami- 
lies boast  of  decapitated  ancestors,  so  does  a 
pretty  woman  become  more  attractive  through 
the  renown  of  a  terrible  betrayal.  We  are 
pitiless  only  to  vulgar  sentiments  and  common- 
place adventures. 

No  moralist  will  deny  that  the  well-bred,  yet 
corrupt,  are  much  more  agreeable  than  the 
strictly  exemplary ;  for,  having  sins  to  ransom, 
they  are  very  indulgent  to  the  defects  of  oth- 
ers. Virtue,  on  the  contrary,  considers  herself 
sufficiently  beautiful  to  dispense  with  any  ef- 
fort at  being  agreeable ;  and  besides,  those  who 


The  Thinker.  y*5i 

are  really  virtuous  have  all  a  few  slight  suspi- 
cions about  their  position,  and,  feeling  that 
they  have  been  duped  at  the  great  bazar  of 
life,  their  speech  has  that  bitter  savor  which 
is  peculiar  to  those  who  affect  to  be  misunder- 
stood. 

The  woman  who  is  deformed,  yet  whose  hus- 
band considers  her  figure  shapely ;  the  woman 
who  limps,  yet  whose  husband  would  not  have 
her  otherwise  ;  the  woman  who  is  old,  and  yet 
seems  young,  are  the  happiest  creatures  in  the 
feminine  world.  The  glory  of  a  woman  is  in 
making  her  defects  beloved.  To  forget  that  a 
woman  who  limps  does  not  walk  as  she  should 
is  the  effect  of  momentary  fascination,  but  to 
love  her  because  she  does  so  is  the  deification 
of  her  infirmity.  In  the  gospel  of  women,  this 
sentence,  I  think,  should  be  written :  Blessed 
are  the  imperfect,  for  theirs  is  the  kingdom 
of  love.  Beauty  certainly  must  be  a  misfor- 
tune to  a  woman,  for  its  transient  charm  is 
the  mainspring  of  the  sentiment  which  it  in- 
spires, and  the  beautiful  woman  is  loved  on 
the  same  principle  that  leads  a  man  to  marry 
an  heiress.  But  the  woman  who  is  not  dow- 
ered with  the  fragile  advantages  which  the 
children  of  Adam  seek  is  alone  capable  of  in- 
spiring that  mysterious  passion  which  never 
wanes ;  to  her  true  love  is  given,  and  with  it 
the  deathless  embrace  of  the  soul.    The  most 


l62  Balzac. 

celebrated  attachments  in  history  were  almost 
all  inspired  by  women  in  whom  the  vulgar 
would  have  found  defects,  — Cleopatra,  Jeanne 
de  Naples,  Diane  de  Poitiers,  Mademoiselle 
de  la  Valliere,  Madame  de  Pompadour  ;  in  a 
word,  the  women  whom  love  has  rendered 
most  celebrated  were  wanting  neither  in  imper- 
fections nor  in  infirmities,  while  the  majority  of 
women  whose  beauty  has  been  cited  as  perfect 
witnessed  an  unfortunate  termination  to  their 
love  affairs.  The  cause  of  this  apparent  con- 
tradiction is  to  be  found  in  the  fact  that  the 
charm  of  physical  beauty  is  limited,  while  psy- 
chological attractions  possess  an  infinite  power; 
and  this,  it  may  be  noted,  is  undoubtedly  the 
moral  of  the  fabulization  of  the  "  Thousand 
and  One  Nights." 

Suicide  appears  to  me  to  be  the  climax  of 
a  moral  disorder,  as  natural  death  is  the  cli- 
max of  a  physical  one.  Inasmuch,  however, 
as  the  moral  faculties  are  subjected  to  the  laws 
of  volition,  should  not  their  cessation  coincide 
with  the  manifestations  of  the  intelligence  ? 
It  is  the  thought,  therefore,  and  not  the  pistol, 
that  kills.  Besides,  the  fact  that  an  accident 
may  destroy  us  at  the  moment  when  life  is 
most  enjoyable  should  absolve  the  voluntary 
termination  of  an  unhappy  existence.  .  .  . 
Suicide  is  the  effect  of  a  sentiment  which  may 
be  termed  self-esteem,  in  contradistinction  to 


The  Thinker.  163 

that  of  honor.  When  a  man  no  longer  respects 
himself  and  finds  himself  no  longer  respected, 
when  the  actuality  of  existence  is  at  variance 
with  his  hopes,  he  kills  himself,  and  thereby 
offers  homage  to  the  world  in  refusing  to  re- 
main before  it  divested  of  his  virtues  or  of  his 
splendors.  .  .  .  Suicide  is  of  three  distinct 
classes :  first,  there  is  the  suicide  which  is  but 
the  crisis  of  a  long  illness,  and  undoubtedly 
belongs  to  pathology ;  then,  there  is  the  suicide 
which  is  caused  by  despair ;  and  lastly,  the 
suicide  from  ratiocination.  Of  these  three,  the 
first  alone  is  irrevocable.  Sometimes  the  three 
classes  unite,  as  in  the  case  of  Jean-Jacques 
Rousseau.  .  .  .  Suicide  was  permitted  by  Epi- 
curus. It  was  the  finishing  touch  to  his  philos- 
ophy. Where  there  was  no  enjoyment  to  the 
senses  it  was  right  and  proper  for  the  animated 
being  to  seek  repose  in  inanimate  nature.  Man's 
only  aim  consisting  in  happiness,  or  in  the  hope 
of  happiness,  death  became  a  benefit  to  him  who 
suffered,  and  who  suffered  hopelessly.  He  did 
not  recommend  suicide,  nor  did  he  blame  it ; 
he  was  content  to  say,  "  Death  is  not  a  sub- 
ject for  laughter,  nor  is  it  a  subject  for  tears." 
More  moral  and  more  imbued  with  the  senti- 
ment of  duty,  Zeno  in  certain  cases  forbade 
suicide  to  the  stoic.  Man,  he  taught,  differs 
from  the  brute  in  that  he  disposes  sovereignly 
of  his  person ;  divested  of  the  right  of  life  and 


164  Balzac. 

death  over  himself,  he  becomes  the  slave  of 
men  and  events.  To  man,  therefore,  freedom 
in  all  things  should  belong  :  freedom  from  pas- 
sions, which  should  be  sacrificed  to  duties; 
freedom  from  fellow  creatures  in  exhibiting 
the  steel  or  the  poison  which  disarms  attack ; 
freedom  from  destiny  in  setting  a  limit  be- 
yond which  it  can  have  no  effect.  .  .  .  Among 
the  atheists  of  to-day,  the  coward  alone  accepts 
a  dishonored  life. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY. 
"  Habent  sua  fati  libelli." —  Martial. 

The  following  catalogue  is  a  list  of  the 
works  which  are  contained  in  the  "  Comedie 
Humaine,"  together  with  those  with  which  it 
was  to  have  been  completed.  The  titles  in 
italics  are  those  of  the  latter  class. 

Thereto  will  be  found  appended  a  complete 
list,  chronologically  arranged,  of  Balzac's  nov- 
els, as  well  as  of  all  his  treatises,  essays,  ar- 
ticles, and  plays,  together  with  an  account  of 
the  different  positions  which  they  occupied. 
Some  of  these  works  were  published  anony- 
mously, several  were  written  in  collaboration 
with  other  writers,  many  appeared  under  confus- 
ing pseudonyms,  while  reference  to  the  original 
editions  prove  that  the  majority  of  the  works 
now  comprised  in  the  Edition  De'finitive  ^  bear 
dates  singularly  at  variance  with  those  of  their 
first  publication.  The  preparation  of  this  cata- 
logue has  not  been,  therefore,  an  easy  task  ;  and 
while  it  still  leaves  much  to  be  desired,  the 
compiler  hopes  that  it  may  nevertheless  be  of 
some  value  to  the  Balzac  bibliophile. 

1  CEuvres  Complitts  <U  H.  de  Balzac.  Calmann  L^vy, 
Paris. 


l66  Balzac. 

THE  COMfiDIE  HUMAINE. 

First  part.  —  jStudes  de  Mceurs. 
Second  part.  —  fouDES  Philosophiques. 
Third  part.  —  J^tudes  Analytiques. 

FIRST  PART.  —  Etudes  de  mceurs. 

Six  divisions. 

I.  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Priv^e. 
II.  Scenes  de  la  Vie  de  Province. 

III.  Scbnes  de  la  Vie  Parisienne. 

IV.  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Politique. 
V.  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Militaire. 

VI.  Scenes  de  la  Vie  de  Campagne. 

I.   Scenes  de  la  Vie  Priv^e.     Four  volumes. 

I.  Les  Enfants.  2.  Un  Fensionnat  de  Demoi- 
selles. 3.  Interieur  de  College.  4.  La  Maison 
du  Chat  qui  Pelote.  5.  Le  Bal  de  Sceaux.  6. 
Memoires  de  Deux  Jeunes  Mariees.  7.  La 
Bourse.  8.  Modeste  Mignon.  9.  Un  De'but 
dans  la  Vie.  10.  Albert  Savarus.  11,  La  Ven- 
detta. 12.  Une  Double  Famille.  13.  La  Paix 
du  Menage.  14.  Madame  Firmiani.  15. 
:^tude  de  Femme.  16.  La  Fausse  Maitresse. 
17.  Une  Fille  d'Eve.  18.  Le  Colonel  Chabert. 
19.  Le  Message.  20.  La  Grenadiere.  21.  La 
Femme  Abandonnee.  22.  Honorine.  23.  Bea- 
trix.    24.  Gobseck.     25.  La  Femme  de  Trente 


Bibliography.  167 

Ans.  26.  Le  Pbre  Go  riot.  27.  Pierre  Grassou. 
28.  La  Messe  de  I'Athee.  29.  L'Interdiction. 
30.  Le  Contrat  de  Manage.  31.  Gendres 
et  Belles-Meres.     32.  Autre  fitude  de  Femme. 

II.  Scenes  de  la  Vie  de  Province.    Four  vol- 
umes. 

33.  Le  Lys  dans  la  Vallee.  34.  Ursule  Mi- 
rouet.  35.  Eugenie  Grandet.  36.  Les  Celi- 
bataires  I.  Pierrette.  37.  Idem :  II.  Le 
Cure  de  Tours.  38.  Idem :  III.  Un  Manage  de 
Gargon  en  Province.  39.  Les  Parisiens  en 
Province  :  I.  L'lllustre  Gaudissart.    40.  Idem  : 

II.  Les  Gens  Rides.  41.  Idem  :  III.  La  Muse 
du  Departement.  42.  Idem :  IV.  Une  Actrice  en 
Voyage.  43.  La  Femme  Superieure.  44.  Les 
Rivalitds:  I.  L  Original.  45.  Idem  :  II.  Les  He- 
ritiers  de  Boirouge.  46.  Idem  :  La  Vieille  Fille. 
47.  Les  Provinciaux  k  Paris:  I.  Le  Cabinet 
des  Antiques.     48.  Idem:  II.  yacques  de  Metz. 

49.  Illusions  Perdues :    I.  Les  Deux    Pontes. 

50.  Idem :  II.  Un  Grand  Homme  de  Province 
a  Paris.     51.  Idem  :  III.  feve  et  David. 

III.  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Parisienne.     Four  vol- 

umes. 

52.  Histoire  des  Treize  :  I.  Ferragus.  53. 
Idem :  II.  La  Duchesse  de  Langeais.  54.  Idem  ; 
III.  La  Fille  aux  Yeux  d'Or.  55.  Les  Employes. 
56.  Sarrasine.    57.  Grandeur  et  Decadence  de 


1 68  Balzac. 

Cdsar  Birotteau,  58.  La  Maison  Nucingen.  59. 
Facino  Cane.  60.  Les  Secrets  de  la  Princesse 
de  Cadignan.  61.  Splendeurs  et  Miseres  des 
Courtisanes  :  I.  Esther  Heureuse.  62.  Idem:  II. 
A  combien  I'Amour  revient  aux  Vieillards.  63. 
Idem  :  III.  Ou  menent  les  Mauvais  Chemins. 
64.  Idem  :  IV.  La  Derniere  Incarnation  de  Vau- 
trin.  65.  Les  Grands,  PHopital,  et  le  Peuple. 
66.  Un  Prince  de  la  Boheme.  67.  Les  Come'- 
diens  sans  le  Savoir.  68.  Un  Homme  d'Af- 
faires.  69.  Gaudessart  II.  70.  Les  Petits 
Bourgeois.  71.  Entre  Savants.  72.  Le  The- 
atre comme  il  est.  73.  Les  Freres  de  la  Conso- 
lation (L'Envers  de  I'Histoire  Contemporaine) 

(unnumbered).  Les  Parents  Pauvres  :  I. 

La  Cousine  Bette.  Idem :  II.  Le  Cousin  Pons. 

IV.  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Politique.    Three  vol- 

umes. 

74.  Un  Episode  sous  la  Terreur.  75. 
L^Histoire  et  le  Roman.  76.  Une  Ten'ebreuse 
Affaire.  77.  L^s  Deux  Ambitieux.  78.  L^At- 
tacM  de  PAmbassade.  79.  Comment  on  fait  un 
Ministere.  80,  Le  Depute  d'Arcis.  81.  Z. 
Marcas. 

V.  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Militaire.     Four  vol- 

umes. 

82.  Les  Soldats  de  la  Republique.  83.  E En- 
tree en  Campagne.    84.  Les  Vendeens,    85.  Les 


Bibliography.  169 

Chouans.  86.  Les  Fran^ais  en  Agypte :  I.  Pre- 
mier Episode.  87.  Idem  \11.  Le  Prophete.  88. 
Idem :  III.  Le  Pacha.  8g.  Une  Passion  dans 
le  Desert.  90.  L^ Armee  Roulante.  91.  La  Garde 
Consulaire.  92.  Sotis  Vienne:  I.  Un  Combat. 
^^.  Idem :  11.  L* Armee Assiegee.  94.  Idem  .111. 
La  Plaine  de  Wagram.  95.  L' Aubergiste.  96. 
Les  Anglais  en  Espagne.  g-j.  Moscou.  98. 
La  Bataille  de  Dresde.  99.  Les  Trainards. 
100.  Les  Partisans.  loi.  Une  Croisiere.  102. 
Les  Pontons.  103.  Z«  Campagne  de  France. 
104.  Z<f  Dernier  Champ  de  Bataille.  105, 
EEmir.  106.  Za  Penissiere.  107.  Z^  Cbr- 
jff/r^  Algirien. 

VI,  Scenes  de  la  Vie  de  Campagne.    Two 
volumes. 

108.  Les  Paysans.  109.  Le  Me'decin  de  Cam- 
pagne. no.  Le  yuge  de  Paix.  in.  Le  Curd 
de  Village.     1 12.  Les  Environs  de  Paris. 

SECOND  PART.    ^TUDES  PHILOSOPHIQUES. 
Three  volumes, 

113.  Le  Phtdon  d' Aujourdhui,  114.  La 
Peau  de  Chagrin.  115.  Jdsus-Christ  en  Flan- 
dre.  116.  Melmoth  Reconcilid.  117.  Mas- 
similla  Doni.  118.  Le  Chef  d'CEuvre  In- 
connu.  119.  Gambara.  120.  Balthazar  Claes, 
ou  la  Recherche  de  I'Absolu.  121.  Le  Pre- 
sident  Toutot.      122.    Le  Philanthrope.      123. 


170  Balzac. 

L'Enfant  Maudit.  124.  Adieu.  125.  LesMa- 
rana.  126.  Le  Requisitionnaire.  127.  El 
Verdugo.  128.  Un  Drame  au  Bord  dela  Mer. 
129.  Maitre  Cornelius.  130.  L'Auberge  Rouge. 
131.  Sur  Catherine  de  Me'dicis  :  I.  Le  Martyr 
Calviniste.  132,  Idem  :  II.  La  Confession  de 
Ruggieri.  133.  Idem  :  III.  Les  Deux  Reves. 
134.  Le  Nouvel  Abeilard.  135.  L'filixir  de 
Longue  Vie.  136.  La  Vie  et  les  Aventures  d'une 
Ldee.  137.  Les  Proscrits.  138.  Louis  Lam- 
bert.    139.  Seraphita. 

THIRD  PART.    i^TUDES  ANALYTIQUES. 
Two  volumes. 

140.  Anatomie  des  Corps  Enseignants.  141. 
Physiologie  du  Mariage.  142.  Pathologie  de 
la  Vie  Sociale.  143.  Monographie  de  la  Vertu. 
144.  Dialogue  Philosophique  et  Politique  sur  la 
Perfection  du  XIXe  Siecle.  145.  Petites  Mi- 
ssies de  la  Vie  Conjugale. 

1822. 

L'Heritibre  de  Birague,  histoire  tirde  des 
manuscripts  de  dom  Rago,  ex-prieur  des  Bend- 
dictins,  mise  k  jour  par  ses  deux  neveux,  A. 
de  Viellergle  et  Lord  R'hoone.  Four  volumes 
in-i2.     Hubert.     1822. 

Jean-Louis,  ou  la  Fille  Trouvee,  par  A.  de 
Viellergle  et  Lord  R'hoone.  Four  volumes  in- 
12.     Hubert.    1822. 


Bibliography.  171 

Clotilde  de  Lusignan,  ou  le  Beau  Juif :  man- 
uscript trouve  dans  les  archives  de  la  Province 
et  publid  par  Lord  R'hoone.  Four  volumes  in- 
12.  Hubert.  1822.  This  romance  was  re- 
published in  1836  under  the  title  of  L'Israelite, 
and  signed  Horace  de  Saint-Aubin. 

Le  Centenaire,  ou  les  Deux  Beringheld,  by 
Horace  de  Saint-Aubin.  Four  volumes.  Pol- 
let.  1822.  This  romance  was  republished  in 
1837  under  the  title  of  Le  Sorcier. 

Le  Vicaire  des  Ardennes,  by  Horace  de 
Saint-Aubin.     Four  volumes.     PoUet.     1822. 

1823. 

La  Dernibre  Fee,  by  Horace  de  Saint-Aubin. 
Two  volumes.  Barba.  1823.  Second  edition, 
considerably  enlarged.     Delongchamps.    1824. 

1824. 

Du  Droit  d'Ainesse.  Published  in  pamphlet 
form,  and  signed  "  par  M.  D ,"  Delong- 
champs, Dentu  et  Petit.     1824. 

Histoire  Impartiale  des  Jesuits.  Anonymous. 
Delongchamps.     April,  1824. 

Annette  et  le  Criminel,  a  continuation  of  Le 
Vicaire  des  Ardennes,  signed  Horace  de  Saint- 
Aubin.  Four  volumes.  Buissot.  1824.  Re- 
published in  1836  under  the  title  of  Argore  le 
Pirate. 


1/2  Balzac. 

1825. 

Code  des  Gens  Honnetes,  ou  I'Art  de  ne  pas 
€tre  Dupe  des  Fripons.  Written  in  collabora- 
tion with  Horace  Raisson.  Anonymous.  Barba. 
1825. 

Wann-Chlore.  Anonymous.  Four  volumes. 
Canel  et  Delongchamps.  1825.  This  romance 
was  republished  in  1836  under  the  title  of  Jane 
la  Pale,  signed  Horace  de  Saint-Aubin. 

Molifere.  Introduction  to  Les  CEuvres  Com- 
pletes de  Moliere.  One  volume.  Delong- 
champs.    1825. 

1826. 

La  Fontaine.  Introduction  to  Les  CEuvres 
Completes  de  La  Fontaine.  One  volume.  H. 
de  Balzac  and  A.  Sautelet.     1826. 

Petit  Dictionnaire  des  Enseignes  de  Paris. 
Published  by  Balzac  in  1826,  and  signed  *'Un 
Batteur  de  Pave'." 

1829. 

Le  Dernier  Chouan.  The  first  edition  was 
published  by  Urbain  Cabanel.  Four  volumes 
in-i2.  The  second  edition,  entitled  Les  Chou- 
ans,  was  published  by  Vimont  in  1834.  In  1846 
Les  Chouans  reappeared  in  the  first  edition  of 
the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Militaire. 

Fragoletta.  Criticism.  Le  Mercure  du  XIXe 
Si^cle. 

Physiologie  du  Mariage.     The  first  edition 


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was  published  anonymously.  Two  volumes  in- 
8.  Urbain  Cabanel.  The  second  edition, 
signed,  appeared  in  1834.  Ollivier.  In  1846 
it  entered  the  first  edition  of  the  l^tudes  Ana- 
lytiques. 

1830. 

fitude  de  Moeurs  par  les  Gants.  La  Silhou- 
ette, 9  January,  1830. 

El  Verdugo.  Originally  appeared  in  La 
Mode,  29  January,  and  entitled  Souvenirs  Sol- 
datesques.  In  1835  it  entered  the  fourth  edi- 
tion of  the  fitudes  Philosophiques. 

Une  Vue  de  Touraine.  La  Silhouette,  11 
February. 

Complaintes  Satiriques.  La  Mode,  12  Feb- 
ruary. 

Un  Homme  Malheureux.  La  Silhouette,  18 
February. 

L'Usurier.  First  chapter  of  Gobseck.  La 
Mode,  26  February. 

^tude  de  Femme.  Originally  appeared  in 
La  Mode,  12  March,  1830.  It  reappeared  in 
183 1  in  the  Romans  et  Contes  Philosophiques, 
by  H.  de  Balzac.  Three  volumes.  Gosselin. 
In  1842  it  entered  the  first  volume  of  the  fifth 
edition  of  the  Scbnes  de  la  Vie  Priv^e. 

Visites.  I.  Un  Pensionnat  de  Demoiselles. 
II.  L' Atelier  d'un  Peintre.  La  Mode,  2  and 
6  April.     Signed  "  Comte  Alex,  de ." 

Voyage  pour  TEternite.  La  Silhouette,  15 
April. 


174  Balzac. 

L'fipicier.     La  Silhouette,  25  April. 

Des  Artistes.  Three  articles.  La  Silhouette, 
25  February,  11  March,  22  April. 

La  Paix  du  Me'nage.  Originally  published 
in  the  first  edition  of  the  Scbnes  de  la  Vie 
Privee.  Two  volumes  in-8.  Maure  et  Delau- 
nay-Valle'e. 

These  volumes  also  contained  :  — 

La  Maison  du  Chat-qui-pelote,  then  entitled 
Gloire  et  Malheur ;  Le  Bal  de  Sceaux ;  La 
Vendetta,  and  La  Femme  Vertueuse  (Une 
Double  Famille). 

Le  Bibliophile  Jacob.     Le  Voleur,  5  May. 

Le  Charlatan,     La  Silhouette,  6  May. 

L'Oisif  et  le  Travailleur.    La  Mode,  8  May. 

Madame  Tontendieu.    La  Silhouette,  8  May. 

Moeurs  Aquatiques.     La  Silhouette,  20  May. 

Des  Mots  ^  la  Mode.     La  Mode,  22  May. 

De  la  Mode  en  Litterature.  La  Mode,  29 
May. 

Nouvelle  Theorie  du  Dejeuner.  La  Mode, 
29  May. 

Adieu.  Originally  appeared  in  La  Mode,  15 
May.  In  1832,  under  the  title  of  Le  Devoir 
d'une  Femme,  it  appeared  in  the  first  edition  of 
the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Privee,  but  in  1835  it  be- 
came incorporated  in  the  fitudes  Philoso- 
phiques. 

fitude  de  Philosophie  Morale.  La  Silhouette, 
17  June. 


Bibliography.  175 

De  la  Vie  de  Chateau.     La  Mode,  26  June. 

Physiologic  de  Toilette.  La  Silhouette,  3 
June. 

Physiologic  Gastronomique.  La  Silhouette, 
15  August. 

Gavarni.     La  Mode,  2  October. 

L'^^lixir  de  Longue  Vic.  Originally  pub- 
lished in  La  Revue  de  Paris,  October,  1830. 
In  1835  it  entered  the  Etudes  Philosophiques. 

Le  Ministre.     Prospectus  of  La  Caricature. 

Croquis.     La  Caricature,  October. 

Une  Vue  du  Grand  Monde.  La  Caricature, 
October. 

Ressouvenirs.     La  Caricature,  November. 

Les  Voisins.     La  Caricature,  November. 

Une  Consultation.  La  Caricature,  Novem- 
ber, 

L'Opium,     La  Caricature,  November. 

La  Reconnaissance  du  Gamin.  La  Carica- 
ture, November. 

La  Colique.     La  Caricature,  November. 

L'Archeveque.     La  Caricature,  November. 

This  last  fantasy  contains  the  germ  of  La 
Belle  Impdria.  It  may  be  noted  that  none  of 
Balzac's  contributions  to  La  Caricature  were 
signed  by  his  own  name,  his  dififerent  pseudo- 
nyms being  Alf.  Condreux,  Le  C*  Alex  de 
B ,  Henry  de  B ,  and  E.  Morisseau. 

Traitd  de  la  Vie  ^Mgante.  La  Mode,  2,  9, 
16,  and  23  October.  These  articles  were  re- 
published in  La  Librarie  Nouvelle  in  1853. 


176  Balzac. 

La  Comedie  du  Diable.  La  Mode,  13  No- 
vember. In  1 83 1  La  Comedie  du  Diable  was 
republished  in  the  first  edition  of  the  Romans 
et  Contes  Philosophiques,  but  it  has  never 
formed  part  of  the  Comedie  Humaine. 

Des  Salons  Litteraires.  La  Mode,  20  No- 
vember. 

La  Tour  de  la  Birette.  La  Silhouette,  21 
November. 

Le  Gar^on  de  Bureau.  La  Caricature,  25 
November. 

Sarrasine.  Originally  published  in  La  Revue 
de  Paris,  November,  1830.  In  1831  it  formed 
part  of  the  Romans  et  Contes  Philosophiques, 
and  subsequently  entered  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie 
Privde. 

Des  Caricatures.  La  Caricature,  2  Decem- 
ber. 

Une  Lutte.     La  Caricature,  9  December. 

Les  Litanies  Romantiques.  La  Caricature, 
9  December. 

La  Danse  des  Pierres.  A  fragment  of  the 
legend  entitled  Jesus-Christ  en  Flandre.  La 
Caricature,  9  December. 

De  ce  qui  n'est  pas  k  la  Mode.  La  Carica- 
ture, 10  December. 

Le  Petit  Mercier.  La  Caricature,  16  Decem- 
ber. Portions  of  this  article  reappeared  in  La 
Fille  aux  Yeux  d'Or. 

La  Mort  de  ma  Tante.  La  Caricature,  16 
December. 


Bibliography.  177 

Le  Dernier  Napoleon.  La  Caricature,  16 
December.  This  article,  rearranged,  forms  the 
commencement  of  La  Peau  du  Chagrin. 

Une  Garde.     La  Caricature,  23  December. 

Si  j'etais  Riche.  La  Caricature,  23  December. 

Vengeance  d' Artiste.  La  Caricature,  23  De- 
cember. 

Entre-Filet.     La  Caricature,  23  December. 

Une  Inconsequence.  La  Caricature,  30  De- 
cember. 

Les  Horloges  Vivantes.  La  Caricature,  30 
December. 

Les  ^trennes.     La  Caricature,  30  December. 

Une  Passion  dans  le  Desert.  Originally  ap- 
peared in  the  Revue  de  Paris,  24  December, 
1830.  In  1837  it  was  republished  in  the  fourth 
edition  of  the  Etudes  Philosophiques,  but  in 
1846  it  was  changed  to  the  Scbnes  de  la  Vie 
Militaire. 

Un  Episode  sous  la  Terreur.  Published  as 
introduction  to  the  Mdmoires  de  Samson.  Two 
volumes.  Maure  et  Delaunay.  Reappeared  in 
1845  in  Le  Royal  Keepsake,  and  in  1846  en- 
tered the  first  edition  of  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie 
Politique. 

Souvenirs  d'un  Paria.  Contained  in  the  fore- 
going volume. 

Lettres  sur  Paris.  Nineteen  contributions  to 
Le  Voleur,  unsigned,  dating  from  26  Septem- 
ber, 1830,  to  29  March,  1831. 


1/8  Balzac. 

1831. 

Les  Deux  Dragons.   La  Silhouette,  2  January. 

La  Grisette.     La  Caricature,  6  January. 

Paris  en  1 83 1.     La  Caricature,  24  March. 

Un  Importun.    La  Caricature,  24  March. 

Un  De'pute  d'Alors.  La  Caricature,  24 
March. 

Le  Cornac  de  Carlsruhe.  La  Caricature,  31 
March. 

Le  Dimanche.     La  Caricature,  31  March. 

Opinion  de  mon  fipicier.  La  Caricature,  7 
April. 

Longchamps.     La  Caricature,  7  April. 

L'Embuscade.     La  Caricature,  7  April. 

Une  Semaine.     La  Caricature,  14  April. 

De  rindifference  en  Matibre  Politique.  La 
Caricature,  14  April. 

Le  Requisitionnaire.  Originally  appeared  in 
the  Revue  de  Paris,  23  February,  183 1.  It 
was  republished,  same  year,  in  the  Romans  et 
Contes  Philosophiques,  and  in  1846  was  col- 
lected in  the  Etudes  Philosophiques. 

L' Enfant  M audit.  First  part  originally  ap- 
peared in  the  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes,  Janu- 
ary, 183 1.  It  was  republished  the  same  year 
in  the  Romans  et  Contes,  and  was  subsequently 
collected  in  the  Etudes  Philosophiques. 

Des  Signes  Particuliers.  La  Caricature,  21 
April. 


Bibliography.  179 

Les  Proscrits.  Originally  appeared  in  the 
Revue  de  Paris,  May,  1831 ;  was  republished  in 
the  Romans  et  Contes.  In  1835  it  formed,  with 
Louis  Lambert  and  S^raphita,  a  volume  enti- 
tled Le  Livre  Mystique.  Werdet.  In  1840  it 
entered  the  fitudes  Philosophiques. 

Enquete  sur  la  Politique  des  Deux  Minis- 
tferes.  Published  in  pamphlet  iovax,  and  signed 
M.  de  Balzac,  electeur  eligible.  April,  1831. 
A.  Levavaseur, 

Tableau  d'un  Intdrieur  de  Famille.  La  Car- 
icature, 12  May. 

Le  Provincial.     La  Caricature,  12  May. 

Inconvenients  de  la  Presse.  La  Caricature, 
12  May. 

Le  Patriotisme  de  Clarice.  La  Caricature, 
26  May. 

Un  Pantalon  de  Poll  de  Ch^vre.  La  Carica- 
ture, 27  May. 

Le  Suicide  d'un  Poete  (a  fragment  of  La 
Peau  du  Chagrin).  Was  published  originally 
in  the  Revue  de  Paris,  May,  1831.  The  entire 
work  appeared  in  August  of  the  same  year  in 
two  volumes.  Gosselin.  It  was  subsequently 
collected  in  the  J^tudes  Philosophiques. 

Un  Ddjeuner  sous  le  Pont  Royal.  La  Cari- 
cature, 2  June. 

Ordre  Public.     La  Caricature,  9  June. 

Une  Stance  \  I'Hdtel  Bullion.  La  Carica- 
ture, 16  June. 


1 80  Balzac. 

Conseil  des  Ministres.  La  Caricature,  16 
June. 

Croquis.     La  Caricature,  16  June. 

La  Belle  Imperia.    Revue  de  Paris,  7  June. 

Dom  Pedro  IL     La  Caricature,  23  June. 

Manibre  de  faire  £meute.  La  Caricature, 
23  June. 

Un  Conspirateur  Moderne.  La  Caricature, 
21  July. 

Physiologic  des  Positions.  La  Caricature, 
21  July. 

Rondo  Brilliant  et  Facile  k  I'Usage  des  Com- 
mengants  en  Politique.    La  Caricature,  28  July. 

Le  Banquier.     La  Caricature,  4  August. 

Le  Chef  d'CEuvre  Inconnu.  Published  orig- 
inally in  L' Artiste,  it  was  subsequently  inserted 
in  the  Etudes  Philosophiques. 

Physiologic  de  I'Adjoint.  La  Caricature,  11 
August. 

Deux  Rencontres  en  un  An.  La  Caricature, 
II  August. 

Les  Grands  Acrobates.  La  Caricature,  18 
August. 

Un  Fait  Personnel.  La  Caricature,  18  Au- 
gust. 

L'Auberge  Rouge.  Appeared  originally  in 
the  Revue  de  Paris,  10  and  27  August.  It  was 
subsequently  inserted  in  the  fitudes  Philoso- 
phiques. 

Le  Claquer.     La  Caricature,  8  September. 


Bibliography.  i8l 

Vingt  et  Un  Septembre,  1822.  La  Carica- 
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Jesus-Christ  en  Flandre.  First  appeared  in 
the  Romans  et  Contes  Philosophiques.  In 
1845  it  was  inserted  among  the  Etudes  Philos- 
ophiques. 

Le  Sous-Prefet.     La  Caricature,  6  October. 

Exaltation  des  Ministres.  La  Caricature,  6 
October. 

Morality  d'une  Bouteille  de  Champagne.  La 
Caricature,  20  October. 

Etudes  Critiques.  La  Caricature,  3  Novem- 
ber. 

Physiologie  du  Cigare.  La  Caricature,  10 
November. 

La  Fortune  en  183 1.  La  Caricature,  17  No- 
vember. 

Grand  Concert  Vocal.  La  Caricature,  24 
November. 

L'Embarras  du  Choix.  La  Caricature,  i  De- 
cember. 

Les  Six  Degrds  de  Crime  et  de  la  Vertu.  La 
Caricature,  15  December. 

Details  Inddits.   La  Caricature,  29  December. 

Maitre  Cornelius.  Originally  published  in  the 
Revue  de  Paris,  was  afterwards  inserted  among 
the  Etudes  Philosophiques. 

1832. 

Une  Joum^e  du  Nez  de  M.  d'Argout.  La 
Caricature,  12  January. 


1 82  Balzac. 

Deux  Destinies  d'Homme.  La  Caricature, 
26  January. 

Religion  Saint-Simonienne.  La  Caricature, 
26  January. 

Le  Depart.  A  sketch  published  in  a  book  en- 
titled L'fimeraude.     Urbain  Canel. 

Histoire  du  Chevalier  du  Beauvoir,  and  Le 
Grand  d'Espagne.  Originally  appeared  in  an  ar- 
ticle entitled  Conversation  entre  Onze  Heures 
et  Minuit.  These  two  stories  were  afterwards 
inserted  in  La  Muse  du  Departement.  Conver- 
sation entre  Onze  Heures  et  Minuit  formed 
part  of  a  volume  entitled  Les  Contes  Bruns, 
which  was  published  anonymously  by  Balzac, 
Philarbte  Chasles,  and  Charles  Rabou. 

La  Maitresse  de  Notre  Colonel.  An  extract 
from  Conversation  entre  Onze  Heures  et  Mi- 
nuit. It  was  afterwards  inserted  in  Autre  £tude 
de  Femme. 

Depart  d'une  Diligence.  La  Caricature,  9 
February. 

Voilk  mon  Homme.  La  Caricature,  23  Feb- 
ruary. 

Madame  Firmiani.  Originally  appeared  in 
the  Revue  de  Paris,  February,  1832.  In  the 
same  year  it  was  published  in  the  Nouveaux 
Contes  Philosophiques  de  Balzac,  and  entered 
in  1842  the  fifth  edition  of  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie 
Privee. 

Le  Message.      Originally  appeared   in   the 


Bibliography.  183 

Revue  des  Deux  Mondes,  15  February,  1832. 
In  1842  it  entered  the  fifth  edition  of  the 
Scenes  de  la  Vie  Privee. 

Le  Colonel  Chabert.  Originally  entitled  La 
Comtesse  k  Deux  Maris.  This  story  first  ap- 
peared in  L'Artiste,  February  and  March,  1832. 
It  reappeared  the  same  year  in  Salmigundis,  a 
collection  of  nouvelles  by  different  authors, 
published  by  Fournier  Jeune,  in  twelve  vol- 
umes, and  in  1844  entered  the  third  edition  of 
the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Parisienne. 

Procbs  de  la  Caricature.  La  Caricature,  15 
March. 

Sur  la  Destruction  Projet^e  du  Monument 
du  Due  de  Berry.     Le  Renovateur,  31  March. 

Le  Philipotin.  La  Caricature,  22,  29  March 
and  5  April. 

Terme  d'Avril.     La  Caricature,  19  April. 

La  Vie  d'une  Femme.  Le  Rdnovateur,  19 
May. 

Facdties  Choldriques.  La  Caricature,  26 
April. 

Contes  Drolatiques,  Premier  Dizain.  One 
volume  in-8.     Charles  Gosselin,  April,  1832. 

Le  Refus.  Published  with  other  stories,  by 
different  authors,  in  a  book  entitled  Le  Sa- 
phir.     Urbain  Canel,  1832. 

Le  Curd  de  Tours.  First  published  in  the 
second  edition  of  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Privde. 
In  1843  it  was  changed  to  the  Scenes  de  la' 
Vie  de  Province,  third  edition. 


1 84  Balzac, 

La  Grande  Bretbche.  First  published  in  the 
second  edition  of  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Privde, 
and  entitled  Le  Conseil.  Under  this  heading 
was  also  grouped  Le  Message. 

La  Bourse.  First  published  in  the  second 
edition  of  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Privee  ;  't  was 
afterwards  inserted  in  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Pa- 
risienne,  but  in  1845  ^'  ^^^  replaced  among 
the  Scbnes  de  la  Vie  Privde,  fifth  edition. 

Sur  la  Situation  du  Parti  Royaliste.  Le 
R6novateur,  26  May. 

La  Femme  Abandonne.  First  published  in 
the  Revue  de  Paris,  September,  1832,  In  1833 
it  was  republished  among  the  Scenes  de  la 
Vie  de  Province,  first  edition,  and  in  1842  was 
changed  to  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Privee. 

Lettre  k  Charles  Nodier.  Revue  de  Paris, 
October. 

Louis  Lambert.  Appeared  originally  among 
the  Nouveaux  Contes  Philosophiques.  Greatly 
augmented,  it  reappeared  in  1835  i^  Le  Livre 
Mystique.  In  1846  it  entered  the  fifth  edition 
of  the  fitudes  Philosophiques. 

Voyage  k  Java.  Revue  de  Paris,  November, 
1832.  Republished  in  1855  in  the  same  vol- 
ume as  Les  Paysans.  It  does  not,  however, 
form  part  of  the  Come  die  Humaine. 

La  Grenadibre,  Revue  de  Paris,  October, 
1832.  Republished  in  the  Scbnes  de  la  Vie 
de  Province,  it  was  in  1842  collected  among 
the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Privde,  fifth  edition. 


Bibliography.  185 

Les  Marana.  Under  the  title  of  Histoire  de 
Madame  Diard  this  story  was  first  published 
in  the  Revue  de  Paris,  October,  1832.  It 
reappeared  among  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Pari- 
sienne,  first  edition ;  but  in  1846  it  was  defi- 
nitely inserted  among  the  ]^tudes  Philoso- 
phiques. 

1833. 

Histoire  des  Treize.  Three  divisions.  The 
first,  Ferragus,  appeared  with  preface  in  the 
Revue  de  Paris,  March,  1833.  The  second, 
La  Duchesse  de  Langeais,  was  commenced,  but 
not  finished,  in  the  ;^cho  de  la  France,  under 
the  title  of  Ne  Touchez  pas  k  la  Hache,  and 
published  in  its  entirety  in  the  first  edition  of  the 
Scenes  de  la  Vie  Parisienne.  The  third.  La 
Fille  aux  Yeux  d'Or,  first  announced  under  the 
title  of  La  Fille  aux  Yeux  Rouges,  originally 
appeared  in  the  first  edition  of  Scenes  de  la 
Vie  Parisienne. 

Le  Prosne  du  Joyeulx  Curd  de  Meudon. 
First  appeared  in  La  Bagatelle,  13  June.  It  sub- 
sequently reappeared  among  Les  Contes  Drola- 
tiques,  Deuxibme  Dizain.  One  volume.  Gos- 
selin,  July,  1833. 

Theorie  de  la  D-marche.  Europe  Littdraire, 
August  and  September,  1833.  In  1855  it  was 
republished  in  one  volume  in-i8.  Eugene 
Didier. 

Perseverance  d' Amour.    First  appeared  in  La 


1 86  Balzac. 

Europe  Littdraire,  8  September.  In  1837  i^  ^S" 
appeared  among  the  Contes  Drolatiques,  Troi- 
sieme  Dizain.     One  volume  in-8.     Werdet. 

Le  Mddecin  de  Campagne.  Originally  pub- 
lished by  Maure  et  Delaunay.  Two  volumes 
in-8  in  September,  1833.  In  1846  this  work 
appeared  in  the  first  edition  of  Scdnes  de  la 
Vie  de  Campagne. 

Eugenie  Grandet.  First  published  in  the 
first  edition  of  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  de  Pro- 
vince. 

LTllustre  Gaudissart.  First  published  in 
the  first  edition  of  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  de 
Province. 

1834. 

Seraphita.  The  publication  of  this  work 
was  begun  in  the  Revue  de  Paris,  but  ap- 
peared for  the  first  time  complete  in  Le  Livre 
Mystique.  Two  volumes.  Werdet.  In  1846 
it  entered  the  fifth  edition  of  the  fitudes  Phi- 
losophiques. 

La  Recherche  de  I'Absolu.  This  work  orig- 
inally appeared  among  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie 
Privee.  It  was  reprinted  by  Charpentier  under 
the  title  of  Balthazar  Claes.  In  1845  ^^  ^^^ 
inserted  among  the  fitudes  Philosophiques. 

La  Femme  de  Trente  Ans.  Six  divisions. 
The  first.  Premieres  Fautes,  appeared  in  the 
Revue  des  Deux  Mondes  in  September,  183 1, 
under  the  title  of  Le  Rendezvous.     The  second, 


Bibliography.  187 

Souffrances  Inconnues,  appeared  in  the  fourth 
volume  of  the  third  edition  of  the  Scenes  de  la 
Vie  Priv^e,  1834,  as  did  also  the  third,  A 
Trente  Ans.  The  fourth,  Le  Doigt  de  Dieu, 
was  published  in  two  parts  :  the  first,  bearing 
the  same  title,  in  the  Revue  de  Paris,  March, 
183 1 ;  the  second,  entitled  La  Vallee  du  Torrent, 
in  the  fourth  volume  of  the  third  edition  of  the 
Scenes  de  la  Vie  Privee,  1834.  The  fifth  di- 
vision, Les  Deux  Rencontres,  appeared  in  the 
Revue  de  Paris,  January,  183 1.  The  sixth  and 
last  division  was  first  published  under  the  ti- 
tle of  L'Expiation  in  the  fourth  volume  of  the 
second  edition  of  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Privee, 
1832.  Reunited  finally  under  the  title  of  La 
Femme  de  Trente  Ans,  these  different  headings 
disappeared  on  their  entrance  into  the  fifth 
edition  of  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Privde,  1842. 

Le  Pere  Goriot.  Originally  appeared  in  the 
Revue  de  Paris,  in  December,  1834,  and  Janu- 
ary, 1835.  A  second  edition  was  published  the 
same  year  by  Werdet  and  Spachmann.  In  1843 
it  entered  the  third  edition  of  the  Scenes  de  la 
Vie  Parisienne. 

Lettres  aux  ficrivains  Frangais.  Revue  de 
Paris,  November,  1834. 

Aventures  d'une  Idde  Heureuse.  Of  this 
work,  which  was  to  form  part  of  the  fitudes 
Philosophiques,  but  a  short  fragment  has  ap- 
peared. This  fragment  was  published  in  the 
Causeries  du  Monde  in  1834. 


l88  Balzac. 

1835- 

Un  Drame  au  Bord  de  la  Mer.  First  pub- 
lished in  the  fourth  edition  of  the  ^^tudes  Phi- 
losophiques. 

Melmoth  Reconcilid.  First  published  in  Le 
Livre  des  Conteurs.  Lequin  Fils,  1835.  In 
the  same  year  it  entered  the  fourth  edition  of 
the  Etudes  Philosophiques. 

Le  Contrat  de  Mariage.  This  work,  origi- 
nally entitled  La  Fleur-des-Pois,  first  appeared 
in  the  third  edition  of  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Pri- 
vee. 

Le  Lys  dans  la  Vallee.  The  publication  of 
this  romance  was  begun  in  the  Revue  de  Pa- 
ris, November,  1835,  but  was  not  continued. 
It  was  published  in  its  entirety  the  following 
year  by  Werdet,  and  in  1844  it  entered  the 
third  edition  of  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  de  Pro- 
vince. 

1836. 

La  Messe  de  I'Athee.  First  published  in  the 
Chronique  de  Paris,  3  January.  In  1837  it 
was  inserted  among  the  Etudes  Philosophiques, 
but  in  1844  it  was  changed  to  the  Scenes  de  la 
Vie  Parisienne. 

L'Interdiction.  First  published  in  the  Chro- 
nique de  Paris,  January  and  February.  It  was 
changed  from  the  fitudes  Philosophiques  to  the 
Scenes  de  la  Vie  Parisienne,  and  in  1844  was 
finally  settled  in  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Privee. 


Bibliography.  189 

fitudes  Critiques.  Five  articles  published 
in  the  Chronique  de  Paris  at  different  dates 
during  the  year  1836. 

La  France  et  I'fitranger.  Forty-one  articles 
published  in  the  Chronique  de  Paris  during  the 
year  1836. 

Le  Cabinet  des  Antiques.  First  appeared 
in  the  Chronique  de  Paris,  6  March,  1836.  In 
1844  it  entered  the  third  edition  of  the  Scenes 
de  la  Vie  de  Province. 

Facino  Cane.  Under  the  title  of  Le  Pere 
Canet,  this  story  originally  appeared  in  the 
Chronique  de  Paris,  17  March,  1836.  In  1844 
it  was  changed  from  the  fitudes  Philosophiques, 
in  which  it  had  been  previously  placed,  and  in- 
serted among  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Parisienne. 

Ecce  Homo.  Chronique  de  Paris,  9  June. 
Subsequently  placed  among  the  fitudes  Philos- 
ophiques, under  the  title  of  Les  Martyrs  Ig- 
nores, but  omitted  in  the  Edition  De'finitive. 

L'Enfant  Maudit.  Second  part.  Chronique 
de  Paris,  9  October.  In  1846  this  work  was 
published  complete  in  the  fifth  edition  of  the 
Etudes  Philosophiques. 

La  Vieille  Fille.  La  Presse,  23  October, 
1836.  Under  the  collective  title  of  Les  Rival- 
it^s,  this  tale,  together  with  Le  Cabinet  des  An- 
tiques, reappeared  in  the  third  edition  of  the 
Scenes  de  la  Vie  de  Province. 

Le  Secret  des  Ruggieri.    Chronique  de  Paris, 


1 90  Balzac. 

December,  1836.      Subsequently  entered    the 
fitudes  Philosophiques. 

1837. 

Illusions  Perdues.  Three  divisions.  The 
first,  Les  Deux  Poetes,  was  originally  published 
in  the  first  edition  of  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie 
de  Province.  The  second,  Un  Grand  Homme 
de  Province  k  Paris,  was  published  two  years 
later  (1839)  by  Souverain,  in  two  volumes. 
The  third,  Eve  et  David,  was  commenced  under 
the  title  of  Les  Souffrances  d'un  Inventeur,  in 
Le  Parisien,  July,  1843,  and  completed  in 
L'fitat,  August,  same  year.  United  under 
their  collective  title,  these  three  divisions  were 
placed  among  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  de  Pro- 
vince. 

Les  Employes.  Originally  entitled  La  Femme 
Supe'rieure.  La  Presse,  1-14  July,  1837.  Re- 
published in  the  third  edition  of  the  Scenes 
de  la  Vie  Parisienne. 

Gambara.  La  Gazette  Musicale,  July,  1837. 
Subsequently  entered  the  ^fitudes  Philoso- 
phiques. 

Cesar  Birotteau.  Offered  by  the  Figaro,  De- 
cember 27,  1837,  as  premium  to  their  subscrib- 
ers. Two  volumes  in-8.  Originally  intended 
for  the  ^l^tudes  Philosophiques,  this  work  was 
afterwards  placed  among  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie 
Parisienne. 


Bibliography.  191 

Six  Rois  de  France,  Louis  XIII.  to  Louis 
XVIII.     Dictionnaire  de  la  Conversation. 

L'Excommunie.  Supposed  to  have  been 
written  by  the  Marquis  de  Belloy,  but  signed 
Horace  de  Saint-Aubin.  Two  voliunes  in-8. 
Souverain,  1837. 

1838. 

Splendeurs  et  Mis^res  des  Courtisanes.  Four 
divisions.  The  first,  Esther  Heureuse,  origi- 
nally entitled  La  Torpille,  and  subsequently 
Comment  Aiment  les  Filles,  was  first  published 
in  book  form  together  with  La  Maison  Nu- 
cingen.  Two  volumes  in-8.  Werdet,  1837. 
The  second,  A  Combien  I'Amour  Revient  aux 
Vieillards,  was  first  published  in  Le  Parisien, 
May,  July,  1843.  The  third,  Ou  Mbnent  les 
Mauvais  Chemins,  appeared  in  L'^^poque,  July, 
1846,  and  bore  the  title  of  Une  Instruction 
Criminelle.  The  fourth,  La  Dernibre  Incarna- 
tion de  Vautrin,  appeared  in  La  Presse,  April, 
May,  1847.  United  under  their  collective  title, 
these  four  divisions  were  placed  in  the  Scenes 
de  la  Vie  Parisienne.  The  entire  work  is  a  se- 
quel to  the  Illusions  Perdues,  and  a  continua- 
tion of  Le  P^re  Goriot. 

La  Maison  Nucingen.  Published  together 
with  La  Torpille.  Werdet,  1838.  In  1844  en- 
tered the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Parisienne. 

Traitd  des  Excitants  Modernes.     Published 


192  Balzac, 

in    1838   (Charpentier)   together  with   Brillat- 
Savarins  Physiologic  du  Gout. 

Une  Fille  d'feve.  Le  Si^cle,  December,  1838, 
and  January,  1839.  In  1842  entered  the  Scenes 
de  la  Vie  Privee. 

1839. 

Le  Cur^  de  Village.  Published  in  La  Presse 
at  intervals  from  September,  1838,  to  August, 
1839.  A  second  edition  was  published  by 
Souverain  in  1841.  Greatly  altered,  it  entered 
in  1846  the  first  edition  of  the  Scenes  de  la 
Vie  de  Campagne. 

Beatrix.  The  first  two  divisions  of  this  work 
appeared  in  Le  Sifecle,  April,  May,  1839,  under 
the  title  of  Beatrix,  ou  les  Amours  Forces. 
The  third  part,  Un  Adultere  Retrospectif,  ap- 
peared in  Le  Messager,  December,  1844.  This 
work  now  forms  part  of  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie 
Privee.  Its  principal  personages,  to  wit,  Ca- 
mille  Maupin,  la  Marquise  de  Rochefide, 
Claude  Vignon,  and  Conti,  are  generally  under- 
stood to  represent  George  Sand,  the  Comtesse 
d'Agoult  (mother  of  Wagner's  Widow),  Gustave 
Planchd,  and  Liszt. 

Massimilla  Doni.  La  Gazette  Musicale,  Au- 
gust, 1839.  In  1846  it  entered  the  fifth  edition 
of  the  fitudes  Philosophiques. 

Les  Secrets  de  la  Princesse  de  Cadignan, 
La  Presse,  August,  1839.  It  now  forms  part 
of  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Parisienne. 


Bibliography.  193 

Memoire  sur  le  Proces  Peytil.  La  Presse. 
September,  1839. 

Le  Notaire,  Monographic  du  Rentier,  and 
L'fipicier.  Published  together  with  a  series  of 
sketches  by  different  authors,  under  the  collec- 
tive title  Les  Frangais  Peints  par  Eux-Memes. 
Curiner. 

1840. 

Pierrette.  Le  Si^cle,  14,  27  January.  Sub- 
sequently placed  among  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie 
de  Province. 

Z.  Marcas.  Revue  Parisienne,  first  number. 
Republished  in  1841  under  the  title  of  La 
Mort  d'un  Ambitieux.  Now  contained  in  the 
Scbnes  de  la  Vie  Politique. 

Revue  Parisienne.  Edited  by  Balzac.  First 
number,  25  July. 

Vautrin.  Drama  in  five  acts.  Represented 
at  the  Porte-St.-Martin,  14  March. 

Un  Prince  de  la  Boheme.  Originally  entitled 
Les  Fantaisies  de  Claudine,  it  appeared  in  the 
second  number  of  the  Revue  Parisienne.  It 
now  forms  part  of  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Pari- 
sienne. 

Dom  Gigadas.  Supposed  to  have  been  writ- 
ten by  the  Comte  Ferdinand  de  Gramont,  but 
signed  Horace  de  Saint-Aubin.  Two  volumes 
in-8.     Souverain. 

Scenes  de  la  Vie  Privee  et  Publique  des  An- 
imaux.  Two  volumes.  Hetzel.  Contents:— 
13 


194  Balzac. 

I.  Peines  de  Coeur  d'une  Chatte  Anglaise. 

II.  Voyage  d'un  Lion  d'Afrique  \  Paris. 

III.  Guide-Ane  \  I'Usage  des  Animaux  qui 
veulent  parvenir  aux  Honneurs. 

IV.  Les  Amours  de  Deux  Betes. 

Pierre  Grasson.  Originally  appeared  in  a  Ba- 
bel of  collection  of  romances  by  different  au- 
thors. Since  published  in  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie 
Parisienne. 

La  Fenime  comme  il  Faut.  Now  entitled 
Autre  fitude  de  Femme.  First  appeared  in  the 
fifth  edition  of  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Privee. 
Portions  of  this  work  are  taken  from  other  writ- 
ings of  Balzac  Jiot  comprised  in  the  Comedie 
Humaine. 

1841. 

Une  Tendbreuse  Affaire.  Le  Commerce,  14 
Januar}',  20  February,  1841.  Now  part  of  the 
Scenes  Politiques. 

Un  Menage  de  Gargon.  Two  divisions,  of 
which  the  first,  La  RabouUeuse,  appeared  in 
La  Presse,  24  February,  1841,  entitled  Les 
Deux  Freres ;  the  second,  Un  Menage  de 
Gargon,  also  appeared  in  La  Presse,  October, 
November,  1842.  Both  divisions  were  united 
under  the  latter  title  in  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  de 
Province. 

Notes  Remises  k  MM.  les  Deputes.  Pam- 
phlet.    Hetzel  et  Paulin. 

Sur  Catherine  de  Medicis.    Three  divisions : 


Bibliography.  195 

I.  Le  Martyr  Calviniste.  Appeared  in  the 
Sibcle,  March,  April,  1841,  entitled  Les  Le- 
camus. 

II.  La  Confidence  des  Ruggieri.  Chronique 
de  Paris,  December,  1836. 

III.  Les  Deux  Reves.  La  Mode,  8  May, 
1830. 

United  under  their  collective  title,  these  di- 
visions now  form  part  of  the  fitudes  Philoso- 
phiques. 

Ursule  Mirouet.  Le  Messager,  August,  Sep- 
tember, 1 84 1.  Now  forms  part  of  the  Scenes 
de  la  Vie  de  Province. 

La  Fausse  Maitresse.  Le  Siecle,  Decem- 
ber. Now  forms  part  of  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie 
Privee. 

Physiologie  de  I'Employe.  One  volume  in- 
32.  Aubert  et  Lavinge.  Portions  of  this  work 
will  be  found  in  Les  Employes. 

Memoires  de  Deux  Jeunes  Marines.  La 
Presse,  November,  1841,  January,  1842.  Now 
part  of  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Privee. 

1842. 

Les  Ressources  de  Quinola.  Comedy  in  five 
acts.  Represented  at  the  Oddon,  19  March, 
1842. 

Albert  Savarus.  Le  Sibcle,  May,  June,  1842. 
Now  part  of  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Privde. 

L'Envers  de  rHistoire  Contemporaine.    Two 


196  Balzac. 

divisions,  of  which  the  first,  Madame  de  la 
Chanterie,  originally  entitled  Les  Mechancetes 
d'un  Saint,  appeared  in  the  Musee  des  Fa- 
milies, September,  1842,  September,  1843,  and 
October,  1844;  the  second  division,  L'Initie, 
appeared  in  the  Spectateur  Republicain,  in  Au- 
gust and  September,  1848.  United  under  their 
collective  heading,  these  divisions  now  form 
part  of  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Politique. 

Un  Debut  dans  la  Vie.  La  Legislature,  July, 
September,  1842.  This  work  was  originally 
entitled  Le  Danger  des  Mystifications.  It  now 
forms  part  of  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Prive'e. 

Le  Chine  et  les  Chinois.  La  Legislature, 
October,  1842. 

Avant  -  Propos  de  la  Com^die  Humainq, 
Dated  July,  1842. 

1843. 

Tony  Sans-Soin.  Published  in  the  Livre  des 
Petits  Enfants.     One  volume.     Hetzel. 

Honorine.  La  Presse,  17-27  March.  Now 
contained  in  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Privee. 

Monographic  de  la  Presse  Parisienne,  Two 
volumes  in-8.     Mareseg. 

Pamela  Giraud.  Drama  in  five  acts.  Rep- 
resented at  the  Gaite,  26  September,  1843. 

La  Muse  du  Ddpartement.  Originally  enti- 
tled Dinah  Piedefer,  this  romance  first  appeared 
in  Le  Messager,  March,  April,  1843.     Several 


Bibliography.  197 

portions  of  it  are  extracts  from  other  works  of 
Balzac  not  comprised  in  the  Comedie  Hu- 
maine.  It  now  forms  part  of  the  Scenes  de  la 
Vie  de  Province. 

1844. 

Modeste  Mignon.  Journal  des  Debats,  April, 
July,  1844.  Now  contained  in  the  Scenes  de 
la  Vie  Privde. 

Gaudissart  II.  La  Presse,  12  October,  1844. 
Now  contained  in  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Pari- 
sienne. 

Les  Paysans.  The  first  part,  Qui  Terre  a 
Guerre  a,  appeared  in  La  Presse,  December, 
1844.  The  second  part,  in  which  it  is  sup- 
posed Mme.  de  Balzac  collaborated,  was  pub- 
lished after  Balzac's  death  in  the  Revue  de 
Paris,  June,  1855.  Les  Paysans  is  now  con- 
tained in  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  de  Campagne. 

Les  Comddiens  sans  le  Savoir.  Le  Cour- 
rier  Frangais,  April,  1844.  Now  contained  in 
the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Parisienne. 

Histoire  et  Physiologie  des  Boulevards  de 
Paris.  Published  in  Le  Diable  k  Paris.  Two 
volumes  in-8.     Hetzel. 

Ce  Qui  Disparait  de  Paris.  Same  publica- 
tion. 

1845. 

Une  Rue  de  Paris  et  son  Habitant.  Le  Si- 
bcle,  28  July,  1845. 

Un  Homme  d' Affaires.     Le  Sibcle,  10  Sep- 


198  Balzac. 

tember.     Now  contained  in  the  Scenes  de  la 
Vie  Parisienne. 

Petites  Mis^res  de  la  Vie  Conjugale.  A 
collection  of  fragments  published  at  different 
times.  Chlendowski,  1845.  Now  contained  in 
the  fitudes  Analytiques. 

Une  Prediction.  L'Almanach  du  Jour  de 
I'An. 

1846. 

Les  Parents  Pauvres.  Comprising  La  Cou- 
sine  Bette  and  Le  Cousin  Pons.  Appeared  in 
Le  Constitutionnel,  October,  December,  1846, 
and  March,  May,  1847.  For  these  works  Le 
Constitutionnel  paid  22,074  francs,  of  which 
12,836  was  paid  for  Cousine  Bette,  and  9,238 
for  Cousin  Pons.  Les  Parents  Pauvres  is  now 
contained  in  the  Scenes  de  la  Vie  Parisienne. 

1847. 
Le  D^put^  d'Arcis.  The  first  division  of 
this  work,  and  the  only  one  which  is  by  Balzac, 
originally  appeared  in  L'Union  Monarchique, 
April,  May,  1847.  The  other  divisions  are  by 
Charles  Rabou,  and  were  published  in  the 
Constitutionnel  after  Balzac's  death.  The  D^- 
putd  d'Arcis  is  now  contained  in  the  Scenes  de 
la  Vie  Politique. 

1848. 

Profession  de  Foi  Politique.  Le  Constitu* 
tionnel,  19  April. 


Bibliography.  199 

La  Maratre.  Drama  in  five  acts.  Repre- 
sented at  the  Theatre  Historique,  25  May, 
1848. 

POSTHUMOUS. 

La  Filandi^re.  Revue  de  Paris,  October, 
1851. 

Le  Faiseur  (Mercadet).  Comedy.  Repre- 
sented at  the  Gymnase,  24  August,  185 1. 

Les  Petits  Bourgeois.  Le  Pays,  July,  Octo- 
ber, 1854.  Supposed  to  have  been  completed 
by  Charles  Rabou.  Now  contained  in  the 
Scenes  de  la  Vie  Parisienne. 


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